Something of Men
by svvampy
Summary: To Beth Greene, her last moments at Grady Memorial Hospital were not last moments at all. She was reunited with the group, left unscathed aside from a headache. When she finds herself waking up in her old bedroom at the farm, she questions everything she thought she knew about her own existence. No one else remembers the apocalypse in any way aside from her and a certain Mr. Dixon.
1. Peace of Mind

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

Beth never thought she would envy a ball of gas millions of lightyears away. However, as she lay beneath the umbrella of branches, with stars peeking through the oak leaves, she felt a burning jealousy in her chest. Earth was a tiny speck of dust in this massive universe, leaving the vast majority of space free from walkers. The sky was so peaceful compared to the world she was living in. And somewhere out there was a quiet, calm planet where there were no walking corpses trying to eat your flesh.

As the girl watched the sparkling lights hanging above her, she tried to imagine that everything on Earth was perfectly fine, her family was still all alive, and the apocalypse had never happened. She focused on this one thought so intently as she kept her eyes locked on one flickering star, that eventually, for one brief moment, her heart felt a huge weight lifted off of it. It was a fleeting instance of relief, as all of her thoughts condensed into one idea of her family and her security. She wished she could keep that sweet naivety forever, but her second of joy was gone. Her heart felt that familiar heaviness once again, and she went back to her constant state of fear.

"Beth, go on to sleep. I can take watch," said Glenn's voice from behind.

Beth stood up from her spot on the rock by the creek, dusting off the backside of her jeans. She turned to her brother-in-law. "Want someone to keep you company?"

"You've been walking all day, go get some rest," said Glenn gently. "I'll be fine."

She smiled gratefully. "Alright. 'Night, Glenn."

"Goodnight," he said. He didn't sit down until his sister-in-law was zipping up her tent.

The polyester sleeping bag beneath Beth cushioned some parts of her body, but she could still feel the hard ground pushing through. She was used to not getting much sleep at night, anyway, with the ceaseless anxiety lurking in the back of her mind since the beginning of the apocalypse. Eventually, she felt her thoughts becoming scattered and fanciful, slowly fading into a dream.

Beth's eyes blinked in the sunlight filtering into her tent. She could never remember the exact moment she opened her eyes in the morning, and she never thought to try and memorize the feeling until it was too late. She stretched her arms up above her head, popping her wrists. She heard footsteps outside accompanied by low voices.

As the girl emerged from her tent, she noticed most of the other tents were already packed up, and it seemed all the other group members were already awake. She walked over to Rick, who was holding Judy.

"Did I sleep in too late?" Beth asked.

Rick smiled at her. "It's probably earlier than you think," he said, smiling as Judy reached for the young blonde. "Don't worry about it."

As Beth cooed at Judith, Daryl came out from the trees and foliage behind her tent. He gave her a quick nod of acknowledgment as he approached the two and Judith.

"Catch anything?" asked Rick.

Daryl grunted. "Naw, but I got a couple'a walkers."

Rick looked out towards the thick woods. "We need to hurry up, and head out," he said. "Tents aren't safe enough out here."

The group had been camping out for a while, and their immunity to it had worn off from being in the prison for so long, with beds, food, and security. All they wanted was sturdy walls to protect them from the world around them. Terminus had seemed like such a safe haven, but it turned out to be the opposite.

Beth had had no idea what she was getting into when that car took her away from Daryl that night at the funeral home. She had been held down in the floor of the backseat, the faint glow of moonlight flashing over the leather interior as they'd sped down the road. Her heart had been pounding in the near darkness, and she'd been tossed over someone's shoulder. All she could think about as she was thrown into darkness was Daryl believing she had left him. The thought of Daryl believing that she had completely deserted him had made her mind go numb, and her chest ache. Surely he knew that she could never do that to him.

The hospital had been a dark place, but at least she'd had food, water, and a mattress to sleep on. However, she missed the group so horribly that she spent many nights in bed staring out the window at the silent city, wondering where her family could possibly be.

The memory of being reunited with them was blurry, but she remembered looking into Dawn's cold eyes. The next thing she knew, she was sitting beside Daryl, her head on his shoulder while his hand caressed her neck. He had been whispering soothing words to her, about how she was safe now, forever. She remembered having a terrible headache, but she was with the group again, away from harm. That was her foremost memory, safety and comfort.

The group packed up the tents despite their not being safe, and set out on the road by high sun. Beth walked closely to Maggie along the cracked pavement until she glanced behind herself and noticed Daryl lingering in the back alone. She slowed her pace until he caught up with her. For a moment, they walked in silence along the road blanketed with maple seeds, which spun down from the trees like helicopter propellers.

"Do you think we'll find somewhere to stay soon?" she asked.

"Hopefully," replied Daryl in his deep, gruff voice. He looked at her, lifting one corner of his mouth with a twinkle in his eye. "I bet you'd like to find a nice, big house with a long, pretty lane," he said.

Beth smiled up at him. "I wish we could find a big white house on a hill, with a creek behind it, and a nice little garden. The house would have bunches of windows, with pretty blue shutters and lace curtains." Her voice was dreamy as she spoke. She glanced back up to Daryl. "And a long, pretty lane."

Daryl looked up the highway, smiling slightly. "I'd like that."

She listened to the sound of leaves crunching beneath their boots, and Maggie laughing at something Glenn had said up ahead."Maybe we can find somewhere as nice as the funeral home," she said quietly.

Daryl didn't say anything for a second. Beth didn't look at him. She watched Rick instead as he walked at the front of the group, Carl by his side. Carl wore his dad's sheriff's hat, which always cast a dark shadow over his freckled face.

"Maybe the next place we find'll have pigs feet," said Daryl, making her laugh. She noticed him smirk as she giggled.

She wished he would bring up the last conversation they'd had back in the funeral home, the one that still gave her chills when she thought about it at night. Why'd Daryl have to be so dang cryptic sometimes? She couldn't tell if he saw her as a little sister, or something more.

They fell back into silence again, and Beth watched the shadows of tree branches dance on the ground around her, trying to figure out which shadow went with which gangly limb. A different shadow moved across the gray pavement, and she looked up to see a bird sitting in one of the countless trees lining the highway. Was it afraid? Had it lost anyone to the walkers? Was it even aware that anything was different? Now, not only did she envy the mindless stars in the sky, but she wanted to be that bird, carelessly sitting on a tree branch just as it did before everything fell apart, as if nothing had changed.

As the sky began to blush, and the hazy crescent moon was just barely visible through the wispy clouds, Sasha suggested they stop walking for the day and set up camp again. They wouldn't stay for as long as they had at their previous campsite. Rick led the group off the main road and into the dusky woods. Everyone was grateful to drop their heavy backpacks once they found a safe spot to stay for the night.

The group started the process all over again: unpacking everything, setting up the tents, and hanging up a string with cans on it around the perimeter of their camp. It'd been this way for so long. Camp out somewhere for a while, pack up, leave, and repeat. They were in the middle of nowhere, with no good shelters to be found. Everyone's eyes looked constantly droopy, a tired lull settling in the air around them all. But they were together.

Two mornings later, just as the gray light of dawn shone down through the leaves above, a disturbing cry broke the stillness of morning, making Beth's heart jump. She scrambled out of her sleeping bag, and out of her tent. Glenn was kneeling on the ground, clutching his arm and clenching his eyes shut. Beth saw a flash of deep red on the dirt below him, and quickly got down beside him. A long, bloody gash had been carved into his forearm.

"Glenn!" said Maggie in a brittle voice as she came up behind him."W-what happened?"

Others were running up to help as Glenn tried to explain himself. His words came out as strangled, shaky noises.

"Did you get bit?" asked Maggie in a panic.

"We need to get this wrapped to stop the bleeding," Beth said urgently. "Someone go get something, just, hurry!" Her hands were shaking and becoming more and more bloodied. Glenn's face looked blanched as he gripped Maggie's arm, where red scratches were beginning to show.

Rick sat beside Beth and handed her a dirty cloth. She wrapped it tightly around Glenn's forearm, tying a knot with the ends. A hand emerged from beyond her shoulder, handing Maggie a bottle of water for Glenn, whose breathing was slowly becoming steadier.

Beth turned and saw Daryl squatting behind her, his greasy bangs hanging over his eyes. Sasha, Bob, and Tyreese stood behind him, watching nervously. Carol comforted a crying Judith, while Carl stood close to Michonne.

"How did this happen?" asked Maggie.

"I got up to go to the bathroom, and I tripped. I reached out to catch myself, but a fallen tree branch got me instead," explained Glenn huskily. "Pretty lame way to get hurt these days, if you ask me."

The tension in the air dissipated like salt being poured into water. Maggie laughed disbelievingly, stroking Glenn's hair.

"Looked pretty painful to me," said Michonne, one hand on Carl's shoulder.

"We don't want that to get infected," said Rick in his gravelly tone. He turned to Beth. "Not saying our Beth here didn't do a great job of wrapping him up," he said, smiling.

She blushed. "No, I agree. We need to make sure to keep the wound clean," she said, smiling lightly back at Rick. "It was a nasty cut."

No one went back to bed after the episode, seeing as the sun was nearly completely risen. Tyreese and Abraham kept their weapons ready on the perimeter after Glenn's walker-attracting yelp.

"Let's get that blood off your hands," said Carol warmly as she sat down by Beth's tent. Together they walked down the hill behind the camp towards a tiny pool of water. The younger girl sat on the edge while Carol helped scrub off Glenn's dried blood with her fingernails.

"You did really well, Beth," she said warmly.

"Thanks," Beth said. "It really wasn't all that great, though. I just did what I had to do."

Carol snorted. "You acted quicker than anybody else. Even Daryl."

Beth smiled to myself. "I wasn't the only one who helped," she said. "Rick and Maggie helped, too."

Carol scrubbed away dried blood from the side of the blonde's thumbnail, chuckling. "You sure don't like taking credit for things."

Beth smiled. "It wasn't much of a thing to take credit for."

That night, as everyone disappeared into their tents, Beth walked up behind Daryl who was sitting on a rock.

"Keepin' watch tonight?" she asked him.

He grunted. "Yeah, never can sleep anyway."

"Mind if I keep you company?"

Daryl gave an awkward half shrug before muttering, "Not at all."

The girl sat beside him, looking down at her swinging feet. "I can't sleep well anymore, either," she said. "I remember when I used to sleep in 'til noon on Saturdays, back when I was in school." She gave a light chuckle. "I can't believe I thought school was so terrible. I think I'd take algebra anyday over this world." Not necessarily this moment with you, however, she thought.

She felt Daryl's eyes on her and nervously pushed a wisp of blonde hair behind her ear. She noticed now how Daryl's pinky finger and hers were just barely touching as they rested on the rock. He twitched uncomfortably beside her, but he didn't move away. They could feel nothing but that centimeter of their touching skin.

The clink-clink of tin cans interrupted their brief silence. Daryl stood up quickly, raising his crossbow. Beth stood up behind him, peering warily over his shoulder.

"Do you think it's a walker?" she whispered. "Or is it an animal?"

"Either way, we need to go check it out," replied Daryl. "An animal could mean food for us."

He stepped carefully through the rugged foliage, Beth following closely behind. The low groan of a walker stopped them in their tracks. Daryl moved forward, pushing beside a low-hanging tree branch to reveal a walker trying to move past the tin cans strung up around the camp. Daryl quickly killed it with a shot to the head.

"Do you think that's the only one?" Beth asked.

"Better be," he grumbled. "We don't got time to move out tonight."

She put a hand on his arm. "I'll let Rick know about the walker," she said.

Daryl nodded, cautiously watching the dense forest around us. "Be careful," he said as she made her way back to the main part of our camp.

Rick sighed when she told him the news. He sat up in his sleeping bag, rubbing his chin. Carl wriggled beside him, still asleep.

"Maybe that'll be the only one," Beth suggested.

"Maybe," said Rick. "But we'll clear out tomorrow anyway."

The blonde nodded, apologizing for waking him up as she left the tent. She saw the silhouette of Daryl sitting on the rock again, his crossbow glinting in the faint moonlight.

"Rick said we'll leave tomorrow," she said after clearing her throat.

Daryl glanced back at her. "You should probably get some rest then," he mumbled.

She knew he was right, but she hated leaving him alone. "I'm fine," she said, approaching him.

Daryl scooted aside to make room for her, but as she yawned and failed at trying to hide it, he smirked.

She smiled at him. "Well, maybe I should try and sleep…" she said.

Daryl smiled. "'Night, Beth."

"Goodnight, Daryl," she said softly, not feeling Daryl's eyes on her as she turned away. Once in her sleeping bag, after bunching parts of it up under herself to try and cushion the hard ground, she lay awake, thinking only of Daryl's pinky finger.


	2. Aviary

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

Beth walked in the grassy ditch alongside the road with Glenn, his arm still wrapped in a stained pink cloth. The straps of her backpack dug into her shoulders and neck, making her skin itch and burn. She squinted in the bright sunlight, although the sky itself was shrouded in gray clouds.

"Thanks for patching me up yesterday," said Glenn with a kind smile.

"It was nothin', really," Beth said, returning the grin.

"You must have learned a lot from your dad."

She looked down momentarily, watching her boots move through the grass. "Yeah," she said wistfully. "I guess I did."

Glenn put his good hand on her shoulder. "You're a pretty cool little sister," he said.

She met his gaze, beaming. "You're a pretty cool brother," she said as Maggie came to walk with them.

The group hiked for the entire rest of the afternoon, the sky growing darker with every step Beth took. The branches on the surrounding trees danced wildly in the strong gusts of wind.

"Must be a storm comin'," called Daryl.

In the pink light of twilight, they came upon an old, dark blue van abandoned in the middle of the road. Like hungry wolves, they rushed to salvage what they could from it without a word. An empty lemonade bottle lay in the passenger seat, which Beth handed to Maggie to put in her bag. The girl moved to the open trunk of the car, and quickly reached for a box of matches. A different hand with dirt-caked fingernails reached for the matches at the same time she did. Her eyes traveled up the tan, sturdy arm and to the piercing eyes of Daryl staring back at her through his long, dark bangs.

Immediately Beth was reminded of that night so long ago when she was alone with Daryl, and they hid in the trunk of a car similar to this one. She had been terrified, listening to the crashes of thunder and the screaming walkers throwing themselves at the trunk. Those had been the days when Daryl had been so dark and brooding, and when he would completely ignore her for hours. Things were different now — better.

Daryl gave her a small smile, and she knew they were both remembering the same night. He picked up the matches and silently handed them to the girl. She took them, their fingers brushing against each other.

"Matches!" exclaimed Maggie when Beth handed them to her to place in her bag. "We'll have to use these sparingly."

Beth was just beginning to respond when she heard something, ever so faint, beneath the ruckus of their rummaging. Had it been a growl? She froze, listening intently. One second passed, two, three, four, five. She stood completely still, waiting for another hint of the foreign sound she thought she had heard. Six, seven, eight, nine. She waited. She listened. Her mind was quiet, concentrating wholly on the sounds around her. Ten, eleven, twelve.

Her whole body jerked when the horrid sound returned, the sound of mangled snarls and gnarrs.

"Walkers!" Bob shouted.

Everyone turned, and went into action as several walkers emerged from the trees, and flung themselves in their direction. Maggie grabbed Beth by the arm, and yanked the blond behind her.

"Stay back!" she shouted.

Beth tried to push her away and fight the walkers, but her sister's strong arms pushed her back farther the harder she struggled. Beth watched as Michonne sliced through a walker's forehead with her sword, it's mangled growling ceasing as it fell to the ground.

No shots had been fired yet, other than Daryl firing his crossbow. When he missed one walker's brain, Beth's heart plummeted into her stomach as she watched helplessly from behind Maggie. The walker was only slowed down by the blow, and it moved towards Daryl again. He frantically fired a second time, killing the monster.

Rick pushed Carl away from the other walkers, and Judith into Carol's arms. Beth felt angry at Maggie for treating her like the two youngest in the group. She wasn't a little kid anymore. Maggie didn't know what she had learned from Daryl, and what she'd taught herself.

Rick killed the last walker with his knife, and Beth let out a long, shaky breath. Maggie's arm fell and the blonde ran to the ones who had fought off the herd, the herd she should have been helping to take out.

"You okay?" asked Daryl urgently.

She nodded. "Just angry that Maggie didn't let me help."

Daryl shook his head. "I'm glad she protects you," he said. "You can't get hurt, Beth. You just can't."

A low rumble of thunder rolled through the eerily still air as the group checked the car for any more salvageable items. Lightning illuminated different parts of the ominous, gray clouds growing closer and closer, and distant rain hung in gossamer curtains caressing the tops of the waving trees. Cold needles hit Beth's body as raindrops began to fall. It made no difference to the rain whether it was a normal Tuesday afternoon on Earth, or the end of the world. It would pour down over the land all the same. It was kind of nice, really, that at least the rain hadn't changed.

Sasha yelped from the other side of the car. "It's starting to hail!"

As the icy stones started to pelt them all, they filed into the small van. Beth was somehow pushed to the back, forced onto the floor, and pressed tightly between Rick and Sasha. It was a good thing she wasn't claustrophobic. The doors slammed shut, slightly muffling the harsh sounds of the beginning storm outside.

As the roar of hail on the roof drowned out every other sound, Beth closed her eyes to try and ignore her view. With her head nearly underneath the back seat, all she could see was the reflection of raindrops on the glass dappling the leather interior, reminding her of the horrors of her kidnapping. She didn't want to ever think of that again, but the rough fabric of the car floor was all too familiar. At least this time she had people she loved squished in beside her. She hoped the old memories would fade, and be replaced by this one. Although she was still stuck inside a cramped van in a raging thunderstorm, the people made all the difference.

The crashes of thunder shook the world around her, and she kept her eyes shut tightly, watching the faint colors behind her eyelids grow and fade. She heard Carol from somewhere above whispering to Judith to keep her eyes closed, and Beth took the advice even if it wasn't meant for her. The sound of Daryl's deep voice in the passenger seat speaking lowly to Michonne comforted her, and finally lulled her to sleep.

A warmth on her eyelids lured Beth out of her uncomfortable doze as the first light of day bathed the inside of the van. She felt something heavy resting on her head. Opening her eyes, she saw fingers dangling over her face. She lifted her head up a bit, realizing it was lying on Rick's lap, his hand hanging over her eyes.

Rick grunted sleepily from above, moving his hand away.

Beth sat up as best she could in the cramped space, glancing at Rick with a blush creeping up her cheeks. She smiled embarrassedly.

He smiled sheepishly back, shifting his legs.

As everyone began to wake up and file out of the car, Beth noticed Daryl glancing at her and Rick as Rick helped the girl out of the back seat. His jagged face was blotted out by a bright red spot in Beth's vision as the sun glared down from the sky. She was almost satisfied by his evident jealousy.

The air around was crisp, the bitter scent of rain drifting on the breeze as the group trekked through the wet grass. Water droplets fell from leaves above Beth's head, occasionally hitting her skin and sending a chill through her. She hung back from the rest of the group, with Daryl walking behind her.

She heard him chuckle as she took a ridiculously wide step over a mud puddle. She looked back to give him a look of offense, but her smile couldn't be held back as Daryl smirked and lunged forward to scoop her up in his arms. She giggled as he carried her across the muddy ground, his hands burning her thigh and lower back.

Glenn glanced back at them for a moment, a hint of a smile shadowing his face. He elbowed Maggie, who peeked back at Beth in Daryl's arms.

 _My cheeks must be the color of a strawberry,_ Beth thought as she realized how close Daryl's face was to her cheek. She could hear his unsteady breathing in her ear as he held her. She lessened her arms' grip around his neck. "I can walk," she muttered. "You don't have to carry me."

Daryl stopped walking, his right shoulder twitching once. "Alright." He let her down onto the ground, one hand lingering on her back.

The sun became brighter as the day went on. No more leftover raindrops fell from the trees, and the grass was slowly growing drier. Blue soon reigned over the majority of the sky, leaving the surviving gray clouds looking like puffs of smoke. They made it seem as if a village of cozy cottages with quaint chimneys were just beyond the next hill.

Beth walked beside Daryl, who kept his squinting eyes focused forward. She didn't want to be weird and stare at him, but the combined total of the time she spent briefly glancing at him probably added up to an uncomfortably lengthy amount of minutes. She couldn't help but watch the manner in which he laid down each foot as he walked, and the way the corners of eyes scrunched up as he looked into the sun. She didn't realize that each moment she looked away, Daryl turned to watch her. It was as if their heads were on some sort of pulley, with a rope pulling one towards the other as one was pulled away.

"So, you and Rick got a thing goin' on?"

Daryl's gruff and sudden voice caught Beth completely off guard. "What?"

"You and Rick," said Daryl, still staring ahead. "You two got it for each other?"

She let out an awkward snort. "No!" she said. "Why would you think that?" Of course, she knew why he would be led to think she liked Rick. She'd fallen asleep cuddled up with him, for one thing.

"I've just been watchin' you two," said Daryl.

"Well, we're not together," she laughed. "Don't worry."

She realized what she'd said just as Daryl stopped walking. She turned to him to see he was looking right at me.

"Why would I be worried?" he asked apprehensively.

She frantically tried to think of something to say instead of, "Hopefully, you'd be worried because you're deeply in love with me, and could never _bare_ the thought of me ever being with someone else." However, she doubted she would ever be able to say anything remotely similar to that to him.

"I just thought that you'd be worried that Rick was goin' to be closer to me than to you," she finally said. "But, we're not together, so you don't have to worry about that."

Daryl shifted awkwardly, and nodded.

After a moment of silence, Beth noticed the rest of the group was getting far away. "We'd better catch up," she said, tilting her head towards the others.

In the pink light of the sunset, they came upon the oasis they'd been searching for. Breaking through the foliage, Bob was the first to notice the peaceful house sitting amongst the trees. White paint peeled from it's siding, and shingles on the roof were precariously hanging by one corner.

"It's perfect," whispered Maggie from beside Beth as the group gazed at the home.

"We'll have to build some sort of fence around the perimeter," said Abraham.

"We kinda did at the prison," said Glenn. "Why couldn't we build a good wall here?"

"It _is_ a pretty white house," said Daryl quietly for just Beth to hear. "Just like ya' wanted."

"We'll need to go in and clear it out," said Rick.

The strongest members of the group volunteered to go in with Rick. Maggie turned to Beth before going inside with Glenn.

"Stay back, okay?" she said.

Beth clenched her jaw. "No, I'm goin' in, too."

Maggie exhaled. "Beth, when our group was separated, and I thought you were dead," she said quietly. "I couldn't take it. I couldn't bear seein' you actually get hurt."

"I get that," Beth said. "But, you don't understand. I'm sick of sittin' around. I wanna help!"

"Maggie, let her go," said Carol. "I can watch Judith out here. Beth's capable."

The older sister let go of the little sister's arm hesitantly.

As the volunteers moved up onto the porch of the house, weapons at the ready, Beth felt an exhilarating mix of fear and excitement brewing within her. Her stomach felt like it was floating, and her hands shuddered nervously. But she felt within her, more than anything else, bravery. She held her knife tightly in her hand as Abraham opened the door, letting the rosy sunlight shine onto the dusty entryway.

They all split up once inside, and Daryl immediately appeared beside Beth. The others dispersed up the stairway and down the hall, leaving the two alone at the foot of the stairs. Daryl held his crossbow up, leading them into the room to their left. Beth shined her flashlight on the darker parts of the old bedroom.

"Kinda weird to have a bedroom right off the entryway, don't you think?" She whispered.

Daryl smiled. "Such a critic, ain't ya, Beth."

She was just trying to think of a clever retaliation when a walker flung itself out of the half bathroom attached to the bedroom. It's bloodied head drooped on it's decaying neck, growling furiously as it came towards them.

Daryl hurriedly reached behind him to grab an arrow, but before he could loosen one from the bunch, Beth pushed him aside and slammed the walker against the wall. It's teeth were frighteningly close to her arm as she fought to hold it back. She brought her knife up, and stabbed the walker through the forehead. It slumped to the floor, and the bedroom was once again filled with a quiet stillness.

She turned to Daryl, whose hand was still reached behind him to grab an arrow. He lowered it, watching her with a hint of pride in his eyes. "Thanks," he said.

She nodded. "Anytime," she said breathlessly.

The two continued out of the bedroom, and up the stairs. They let the steps creak beneath their feet, figuring any walkers upstairs had been done away with by the others by now. The air was mustier upstairs, and hung heavy with heat on Beth's skin. The landing encircled the stairway with doors jutting off in nearly every direction.

Rick emerged from one, blood and sweat splattered on his forehead. He ran his dirt-caked fingers through his ragged hair. "We killed several walkers up here."

"Beth got one in a downstairs bedroom," said Daryl.

"Abraham and Tyreese said they'll clear out the bodies," said Rick.

The three went back downstairs, meeting the other volunteers on the porch. Maggie embraced her sister immediately.

"How'd it go in there?" she asked.

"Fine, Maggie," Beth said. "I was just fine."

Once Tyreese and Abraham had all the dead walkers cleared out, Rick started assigning rooms. There were many bedrooms, but not enough for anyone to have their own.

Beth was put with Glenn and Maggie in an upstairs bedroom, right next door to Carol and Sasha. The room's window was boarded up from the last people who had been here. Lace curtains fell against the wooden boards. There was only one bed in the moderately sized room, so Beth curled up at the foot.

The house was soon silent aside from the whistling wind beyond the walls. The room was dark, leaving only the vague outlines of the other furniture visible in the faint moonlight filtering through the cracks between the boards on the window. Beth lay awake, listening to Maggie and Glenn's slow breathing. The sounds of the night were no longer the hooting of owls, or the mysterious scuttering of unknown animals. These days, the night was eerily silent.

After a seemingly incalculable amount of time lying awake in the dark, Beth gave into her inability to fall asleep. She crawled out from under her blanket, careful not to wake Maggie and Glenn as she stood from the mattress. Wrapping her blanket around herself, she crossed the room, her feet making no sound. The door knob popped as she slowly turned it, and she froze, listening for a sound from her sister and brother-in-law. She hated to wake them up, since a good night's sleep was so rare anymore. However, all she heard was the same steady breathing, so she continued to open the door.

Once in the hall, with the bedroom door shut again, she made her way down the stairs. Once in the foyer, she turned left through an open archway to find Daryl sitting alone in a cozy living room. He looked up at her from his spot on the couch.

"What're you doin' up?" he asked.

She pulled the blanket tighter around herself. "I couldn't sleep," she said.

He nodded, gesturing for her to come to him. She sat beside him on the couch, a single candle flickering on the coffee table.

"You like the new house?" asked Daryl, running his hand up and down his thigh.

"It's real nice," she said. "Spacious, too."

They sat quietly for a moment, knowing they both didn't need to make small talk around each other. Beth subconsciously yawned, causing Daryl to look at her.

"Beth, you really should try and get some sleep," he said.

She shook her head. "I did try," she said. "Maybe I'm just too excited about the house."

He shifted, lifting his arm up. "Cm'ere."

She realized what he meant, and leaned into him, letting her head rest against his soft chest. His fingers curled around her arm, pulling her in closer.

"Why are you down here?" she asked.

"All the bedrooms were taken up," he said casually.

"You could've gotten one, Daryl," she said.

"I'm fine with the couch," he said. "I need to be close to the door, anyway. I can keep watch."

She smiled. "Don't you ever sleep at all?"

"Not really," he grunted. "Don't need it."

"Everyone needs sleep, Daryl."

"Not someone whose dreams are worse than their life."

Beth didn't say anything to that. She only pressed her head harder into his chest, shutting her eyes. She wanted him, needed him, to know that even if this world was a nightmare, he would never be alone. He had so many people who loved him, and she couldn't tell if he was completely blind to their affection, or just didn't believe it.

All she knew was the cadence of Daryl's heartbeat, and the faint pulse of candlelight fighting the darkness behind her eyelids. If only her parents were sleeping soundly upstairs like the others, then she would be perfectly content.


	3. Architect

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

Judith squirmed in Beth's arms as she watched the yard from the porch. The more physically strong members of the group had started building a small fence with things they had salvaged over our journey. The sun shone down, warming the young girl's pink cheeks. The air was comfortable in the morning, but she knew it wouldn't last long as soon as the afternoon settled in. Soon, the gravel lane cutting through the forest would grow hazy, ripples of heat dancing at its distant end.

Beth's hair hung loose on her shoulders, the wavy blonde locks glinting in the sunshine. She hadn't had time to do her hair since everyone was so busy that morning, and someone needed to watch Judy. Beth gave her a little bounce as the baby gazed at her father working in the yard.

"Want me to watch Judith?" asked Carol as she came to stand beside the blonde.

"For a bit, if you don't mind," she said.

Carol smiled, speaking lovingly to Judy as Beth handed the child over.

She went back inside the house where Tara, Rosita, and Bob were dusting off some of the furniture with old rags. Upstairs in Glenn, Maggie, and Beth's bedroom, she rummaged through her backpack until she found a hair band. Standing in front of the dirty mirror, she watched her fingers running through her hair, trying to get some of the tangles out. She took three sections of hair, carefully weaving them into a thin braid. She tucked the braid into her hair band as she gathered all her hair into a ponytail. She felt like doing this style everyday gave her some shred of normality to hang onto.

Movement outside the window caught Beth's eye as Daryl passed underneath it on his way to the front yard. The glass was warm against her forehead as she leaned against the window to watch him. Sweat glistened on his arms as he swiped his scraggly bangs from his eyes. Sunlight illuminated his chiseled edges, making him look like some sort of angel.

A knock on the door startled her, making her forehead hit the glass as she jumped. She winced at the sharp pain, turning around to see Maggie standing in the doorway.

"We found somethin' I think you'll like in the backyard," she said. "Wanna come see?"

Beth followed her sister down the stairs, down the hall, through the kitchen, and out the back door. She hadn't been in the backyard yet. It had no fence around it, and backed up into the thick forest which surrounded the house. One tree stood closer to the back porch, isolated from the other mass of trees. It's branches sprawled out from one another, each one gliding along the ground before curving up towards the sky. Its red bark matched the little bench wedged in the middle of all of the limbs.

Beth went to the tree, sitting on the bench and leaning against another low-hanging branch. Grass tickled her bare feet as she lightly swung them back and forth.

"Like it?" asked Maggie as she sat down beside her.

'I love it," she said. The red paint on the wooden bench was peeling, leaving patches of wood shining through. A rusting nail sat uneven in the board with one side bent up. Someone, some _human_ , had built this themselves back when the world was right. They might've built the bench as a little project one Saturday afternoon. They might've let their kids, or grandkids, help build it. It was just a bench. But it was so much more.

Beth looked up to notice Daryl watching her from the side yard. He quickly looked away, busying himself with his work. He was too far away for her to be able to see if his cheeks were turning red, but, from personal experience, she guessed that they were.

Before she could smile to myself, Beth was distracted by a faint ringing from behind her. She turned to find the source of the high-pitched ringing, but saw only the green foliage of the forest.

"Do you hear that?" she asked, the sound not fading.

"No, I don't hear anythin'," said Maggie, not truly focusing on what her sister was saying.

Beth watched the trees for a moment, finally deciding that it was just her ears ringing. However, in the world she was living in, you could never be too careful. Everything was potentially terrifying.

Heading back towards the front of the house, Beth separated from Maggie as she went to Glenn, who was watching the yard from the front porch. His arm was still wrapped in a cloth, the pink stain growing smaller and fainter with every day. He was healing; it was a slow process, but a process nonetheless. He threw Beth a wink before he turned to Maggie.

Daryl looked up from his work on the fence. A sort of partition was slowly forming along the front of the yard, with large spikes of wood shooting out towards the road. Once it was done, any walkers that tried to get through to the house would be stabbed by the knife-like lumber.

"I think the fence is comin' along pretty well," he commented as Beth came to stand beside him.

She nodded. "Where'd you get the wood from?"

He nodded his head towards the side, gesturing behind him. "We salvaged what we could from the shed out back," he said. "We'll probably need more."

"I wish we could go back to the prison," Beth said.

"You don't like the house?" asked Daryl, squinting in the sun as he looked at her.

"No, I love the house," she said. "I just miss the security we had."

Daryl nodded, turning away. "At least we're all together," he said. "What's left of us." Knowing she was thinking of her father, he glanced at Beth and hesitantly put his hand on her shoulder. He didn't need to say anything; his hand said enough.

Beth retreated from the sticky air into the somewhat-less-hot house and grabbed a rag to help Bob, Tara, and Rosita dust. Taking over the front bedroom, she smiled to herself as she remembered killing the walker right where she was standing. At that moment, the room had seemed so dark and menacing. Now, with the sunlight streaming in through the window, and the floral quilt draped across the end of the bed, the room was calming and quaint. She took her rag to the bed rail, carefully wiping away all the visible dust. It was times like these that made her heart ache for a bottle of Windex.

When the evening clouds rolled in, blacking out any starlight that might've illuminated the Georgia woods, everyone settled in at the table in the dining room. Sitting between Maggie and Carol, Beth watched as Rick brought in a dead, mangled animal lacking any fur.

"It's not much, but it's somethin'," said Rick, setting the creature in the middle of the table. "Thanks, Daryl."

From the left of Rick, Daryl nodded his head, acknowledging the group's thanks. He peered at Beth from behind his stringy bangs, and she gave him a small smile. He looked away, busying himself with helping Rick distribute some of the fatty meat.

Beth's heart warmed every time she saw Daryl interacting like this with the other members of the group. She knew he thought he was worthless, but she hoped that on nights like this, when they were all gathered together, laughing and talking, he would see that he was a vital member of their family. They were a family, after all.

Everyone's laughter wafted through the candlelit room with the smell of the carcass as Glenn told a story from his days as a pizza delivery man. Beth listened eagerly to his words, leaning forward to see around Maggie, watching Glenn's facial expressions as he told his story. When something he said triggered an outburst of laughter from the table, Beth tried to capture each person's smile, for some she had never seen before. She felt her spirit soar higher watching the others shake with laughter.

The moment was so simple, and she was completely happy.

After the meal was cleaned up, everyone began to disperse, heading to their rooms to turn in for the night. Beth said a brief goodnight to Tara and Rosita in the narrow hallway, turning onto the staircase. She was met by Daryl, who nearly ran into her. His ankle slipped off the edge of the step he stood on, causing himself to tip forward. His left hand flew to her shoulder, while his right flew to the banister. Beth threw her arms around his waist, squealing as she realized how he could squish her if they fell. However, he quickly regained his balance, laughing nervously as he relieved Beth of his weight and stood back up.

"You okay?" she asked, laughing as well.

Daryl nodded, a haze of pink showing through his scruff. He gave her a small smile as only his eyes looked up from his feet, and he cleared his throat. "You looked like you were pretty happy tonight," he said, changing the subject. "You were smilin' ear to ear."

"I guess I was just feelin' thankful for everybody," Beth replied. Her smile faded as she started to speak again, letting out a risky thought. "Daryl… I was wonderin' about somethin'. Back at the funeral home, you suggested that we settle down there. Tonight, watchin' everybody so happy, I was just thinkin' how I could never give up on… this. On any of these people."

Daryl looked straight at her, his eyes filling with cold hurt. "You think I gave up on 'em?"

"No, well, I don't know-"

"You think I didn't wanna find everybody? I didn't wanna get _this_ back?"

"Daryl, I just thought that I couldn't bear settlin' down, knowin' that my _family_ could still be alive out there." She heard defiance strengthening in her own voice.

He leaned in closer to her, his voice a raspy whisper. "It wasn't my choice to feel like there was nothin' I could do," He nudged her arm out of his way, and stormed into the living room, leaving her standing alone, struggling to push down the stinging lump in her throat.

Rushing up the stairs, Beth vigorously fought the burning sensation in her nose as her sight grew blurry. She ignored the loud creaking of each step, racing towards her cozy spot at Glenn and Maggie's feet. Once she had pulled her blanket over her head, her mind released her thoughts, which swarmed like bees. Why did she tell Daryl she thought he'd given up? Right when she broke through his walls, she blindly handed him the cement to build them back up again.

"Beth."

A hand lightly shook the drowsy girl's shoulder.

"Beth,' whispered the voice again.

She jumped back as she opened her eyes into Daryl's. He stood close to the end of the bed, leaning close to her face. "What're you doin'?" She whispered.

Daryl glanced up apprehensively at Maggie and Glenn, who were still sleeping soundly, their bodies facing each other and curved together. "I was wonderin' if you wanted to go huntin' with me."

"I thought you were mad at me," Beth said quietly.

Daryl looked away for a moment. "Jus'... c'mon. If you want."

She furrowed her brow at his cryptic answer, looking back at her sister curled up beside Glenn. "Alright," she agreed, quietly slipping out from under her blanket and stepping down from the bed onto the cool, hardwood floor.

"Get dressed," said Daryl. "I'll meet you downstairs."

She followed him out of the bedroom after grabbing a change of clothes, but turned into the upstairs bathroom rather than following him down the staircase. She closed the door carefully, trying in vain to soften the click of it shutting. The heather light of morning faintly illuminated the cramped bathroom as it shone in through a small stained glass window above the clawfoot tub. Balancing her folded t-shirt and jeans on the edge of the sink, she pulled her clothes off, momentarily leaving them bunched on the honeycomb tile floor. Once she had her new clothes on, and had her hair up in its usual ponytail and braid, she took her bunched up clothes from the night before and folded them neatly. She knew it was somewhat trivial to fold clothes during times like these, but it was something so simple left from the old world. Things like that were thin threads she was barely holding onto in a wind storm.

After meeting Daryl on the front porch, Beth walked slightly behind him as he led them into the woods. She kept her hand on the knife in her pocket, prepared to pull it out quickly in case of an encounter with a walker. Daryl kept his crossbow at the ready as he used his free hand to push back the bracken.

Beth decided to cut the obvious tension between them. "I'm sorry about accusin' you of givin' up," she said gently.

Daryl kept on walking, not looking back at her. "You were right," he said.

"I was?"

"I wanted to settle down at the funeral home, an' stop lookin' for the others," said Daryl. "But I'd given up on 'em a long time before that."

"You were just bein' realistic, Daryl," she whispered.

" _You_ never lost faith that the others were still alive, Beth."

"I was bein' naive."

"How were you naive if you turned out to be right?" asked Daryl, finally stopping to look at her. "The others were alive. Your faith…it worked."

She tried not to break Daryl's harsh eye contact. He turned away from her, continuing on.

"I'm not mad," murmured Daryl.

"I'm still sorry."

"So am I." With that, Daryl glanced back to give her a small smile, which she returned.

After nearly ten minutes of tracking, Daryl abruptly threw out his arm in front of Beth before putting his finger to his lips. Beth looked towards where his eyes were focused, noticing a small squirrel sitting beside an unkempt bush.

As Daryl aimed his crossbow, he stepped gingerly with his right foot, carefully pulling back the trigger. Before an arrow could fly from the weapon, he quickly pulled his arm from the bow, wincing and shaking his hand. The squirrel darted away, scuttling off through the underbrush. Daryl put his put his trigger finger up to his mouth, sucking on it. "Finger slipped. Dang trigger cut me."

"Let me see," Beth said, moving towards him. She pulled his hand from his mouth to see a wine colored drop of blood slowly slithering down his pointer finger. "Does it hurt?" She asked as she examined the minor wound.

Daryl scoffed and shook his head. "That lil' cut? Don't even matter. Let's move on."

She stopped him before he could turn away. "No, it could get infected," she said. "We should wash it off, just to be safe."

Daryl sighed. "Alright. C'mon, I found a creek while I was huntin' for our supper from last night. You can fix me up there."

She followed him through the thicket, helping to push away the dense brush and unruly branches. The wavering murmur of the wind was soon accompanied by the soft bubbling of frothy water bouncing over rocks as we emerged beside a narrow creek. Tiny ruby colored flowers sprinkled the ground beside the water, and tall lavender wildflowers grew across the way.

Beth sat down beside Daryl, who watched her with a shadow of a smile and a glint in his eyes as she rinsed the blood off his finger. Pink water ran off of her hand as she rubbed the cut with her thumb.

"Seems like you've been playin' doctor a lot lately," said Daryl.

"I like to help out in any way I can," she said. "I'm not real physically strong, but there are other important strengths the group needs."

"Like somebody with a good head on their shoulders," said Daryl.

She glanced up at him, meeting his gaze. He smiled slightly at her, and she smiled back. His cut was perfectly clean, but she kept rubbing his finger with her thumb, slowly drawing circles on his coarse skin.

In the steadily brightening early morning light, their silence was penetrated by a familiar shrill ringing. It was the same ring which Beth heard sitting out on the tree bench with Maggie, but louder. She met Daryl's concerned gaze as the ring grew louder and more deafening.

Then, it was all gone.


	4. Nostalgia

I don't own anything you recognize.

The white ceiling above was painted with yellow dots of light which lurched back and forth as if to a slow beat. Shadows occasionally hid the dancing flecks, but they always glided past to reveal them once again. Beth saw then the lace curtains on the open window swaying in the light breeze, causing the light which filtered through the tiny holes in their intricate design to dapple the ceiling with ivory blossoms.

She realized with a disappointing sinking sensation in her stomach that her time with Daryl must have been a dream. He was probably still mad at her, and would never take her hunting with him again. She angrily pulled her pale pink covers over her head, burying the side of her face into her soft pillow, inhaling the warm and fresh smell.

Her eyes shot open as her stomach dropped again. This was the smell of her old bedroom at the farm.

She looked around herself at the familiar room with a thudding heart which beat on the walls of her chest, threatening to break through. She told herself again and again that she must be dreaming. She knew, however, that dreams were never this vivid or detailed. The sweet scent of irises wafted into the room through the window, and the pale natural light of late morning coated every piece of furniture and every little knick-knack she had set around. She knew the mental image of her bedroom had grown faded and blurry, and she could never dream of such an intricate view of it.

She threw her legs over the side of her same old lumpy mattress, rushing towards her window. Pushing back the curtains, she immediately threw her hand over her mouth. The tears did not start slowly; they fell full force from the first moment she looked out at the yard.

Her father was strolling across the lawn, his hands in his pockets and his eyes gazing out across the field.

Beth turned, her head abuzz, scrambling to get downstairs. She was stopped, however, by the sight of her reflection in her old vanity. Staring back at her was a healthy girl with bright skin and filled-out cheeks. She hadn't noticed how much she had changed over the course of the apocalypse. _Why, suddenly, could I look like the old version of myself?_ She thought.

She took this thought back as soon as she thought it. This wasn't the _old_ Beth. She was the same age as she was just moments ago when she was sitting with Daryl in the Georgia sun. She knew she wasn't the age she was back before things went wrong; She looked too mature. _I'm the healthy form of my present self._

Moving away from the mirror, she returned to her original course, leaving the room. However, she once again stalled in the hallway as she heard a voice from below. A voice that she recognized with a thudding heart.

"Mama!" She cried. She rushed down the staircase, her eyes focused on her feet as they flashed back and forth. Her rush of excitement was briefly interrupted as she collided with a soft, warm body. She looked up, up at the most beautiful and welcome face she had ever seen.

"Beth, why on Earth are you runnin' down from your room like some crazed bull?" asked her mother.

Beth responded with a bone-crushing hug, her face smashed against her chest as hard as she could get it. She greedily inhaled her mother's comforting sweet, woody scent which Beth had desperately wished to smell again from the day the woman had died. The young girl had to find her old clothes and blankets and smell them, trying to not let one detail of her mother fade from memory.

Her mother's hand rested on the back of Beth's neck, and she eased her daughter up from her chest. She watched Beth with her usual sparkling eyes, her rosy countenance foggy through the girl's pooling tears. "What's wrong?" she asked, concern rising in every word she spoke.

"Mama, don't you know?" Beth asked, her voice wavering.

"No, honey," she said quietly. "Why are you cryin'?"

"During the turn, you died!" Beth said quickly. "You shouldn't be here!"

She furrowed her brow, and pulled her daughter into a hug. "Now, you stop that talk," she said. "You must've had some sort of nightmare, because I'm still here. I'm just fine."

The girl shook my head. "Why don't you remember?" she asked, still crying steadily.

"Remember what, Beth?" asked her mother, her voice and countenance showing a shadow of annoyance.

Beth stepped back from her in a confused daze, shaking her head. She ran around her and out the front door, slamming it behind her as she stopped on the porch. Her father stood a ways away with his back towards her.

"Daddy!" She yelled, running down the porch steps. "Mama's inside the house! She doesn't remember! She doesn't remember the turn, but she's alive, and so are you!" Her words were frantic as she reached her father and threw her arms around him, her hand brushing his neck and finding no fatal wound from the Governor's sword.

"Beth, what're you goin' on about?" said her father.

Just hearing his voice again made her stomach drop, and fresh tears began to pour from Beth's eyes as she felt his soft shirt against her cheek. "She doesn't remember," she whispered, shutting her eyes as she held onto her father.

"Doesn't remember what?" he asked, rubbing the top of his daughter's head. "And why wouldn't we be alive?" He gave a light chuckle.

Beth's frenzied, quick breathing stopped for a moment. She slowly looked up at her father, his blue eyes sparkling down at her. She stared up at him, her chest heaving every once in a while. She began shaking her head again, her confusion deepening. Finally, she let go of her father, turning away and running back to the house.

Once inside, she ran into the kitchen in search of Maggie. She stood by the sink, her hands hidden beneath a thick mountain of suds. She turned to look at Beth, and smiled slyly. "Finally up, are you?"

Beth didn't respond. She didn't even ask her sister if she remembered. If she did remember, she would have been as confused and panicked as Beth was. Instead, she was calmly washing the dishes and teasing the blonde for sleeping in late. Just as she would have done if the turn had never happened.

She kept looking at her little sister for a moment, and Beth looked right back at her. She looked healthier, too. Her eyes were brighter, and her skin was glowing in the natural light coming in from the window.

Beth felt her breath slowing as she looked around at the familiar kitchen, and she felt herself calming down. Yes, whatever was happening was incredibly strange, and she was completely dumbfounded, but it wasn't bad. It was good. _Wonderful._ She was home, with her family again, somehow.

"You okay, Beth?" asked Maggie.

Beth looked back at her sister, feeling a smile forming on her face. "Always," she said. She went to help her with the dishes. _Just do the dishes. Just do the dishes._

"These were leftover from last night's supper," said Maggie, laughing. "I never did get around to doin' 'em."

Beth laughed as she was handed a plate to dry off. She realized how nice this felt, doing the dishes with her sister again, and how instinctive her movements were even after not going through this dish-washing routine for so long. She supposed, in Maggie's mind, they had probably washed the dishes just the other day.

"So, what was all the ruckus with Mama?" asked Maggie.

"Oh, nothin'..." Beth said, failing to come up with a good excuse.

Maggie glanced at her, smiling curiously. "Well, you look like you've been cryin'."

Beth stopped drying the plate, looking at her sister, and feeling her fragile reassurance crumble like a thin wall in a tornado. "Don't _you_ remember?"

"Remember what?" asked Maggie.

"The turn! The group! The prison! GLENN!" She shouted, feeling tears in her eyes once again.

Maggie stared at her, her eyes wide. "Beth, what are you goin' on about?"

Beth dropped her dishrag and left the kitchen, her heavy footfalls resounding on the stairs. Slamming her bedroom door, she fell onto her bed and clutched her knees to her chest. Her breath was quick and jerky, and her cheeks were wet and cold as the cool air from her ceiling fan hit them.

She had never been so confused in her entire life. She wasn't sure whether she was overjoyed or sad, and her thoughts were so jumbled that she couldn't make sense of anything. She didn't know what she was feeling, what was happening, or why she was home. Being home was a good thing, of course it was, but everything they'd gained during the turn was gone and completely forgotten. She was terrified and happy at the same time, and it was killing her.

 _Knock-knock_. "Beth?"

Beth raised her head off of her pillow, feeling the cold fabric peel off of her cheek. "Maggie?" She asked, her voice louder than she anticipated.

"Lunch is ready downstairs," said her sister through the door. Beth listened to her footsteps fade away.

When she came into the dining room and took her spot at the table, she felt her stomach drop yet again as she looked at Jimmy, Otis, Patricia, and Shawn, all alive once again. It was a table of ghosts, all except for Maggie.

Beth didn't feel any eyes on her like you would think. Instead, everyone's eyes were focused on their plates of food, except for the occasional nervous glance towards her. After Hershel's prayer, the room remained silent other than the clink of forks scraping against plates, and the sound of food crunching.

"I'm sorry," Beth said, her voice penetrating the laconism within the dining room.

Her mother looked up with her kind eyes. "For what, honey?"

The girl tilted her head at her, scoffing quietly. "For being a weirdo this morning," she said, chuckling nervously.

Her mother clucked her tongue, dismissing the comment.

"What _was_ that about, Beth?" asked Hershel.

"I-it, well, I…" she stuttered, struggling to explain her delirious behavior. "Nightmares," she finally said.

"They must have been pretty bad," commented Maggie.

Beth nodded quickly. "I'm okay now," she lied. "I'm sorry."

Her dad gave her a smile and a quick wink as he took a bite of his food.

She watched each person for a moment, and she realized maybe she wasn't lying when she said she was okay. Being surrounded by her entire family was clearing out her mind, making things very simple: They were alive, and that was all she needed to know. She didn't need to question it any further. She pushed any other bit of doubt far back into the recesses of her mind, not daring to dwell on them any longer.

* * *

TWO MONTHS LATER

Beth woke up to what was normally a pleasant piano melody, but was a loud, grating cacophony of notes in the still morning. Her stomach flew up into her throat for a moment as she was shaken awake by the ringtone. In her stupor, she could only stare at her ringing phone as it vibrated on the nightstand. When she barely came to her senses enough to answer it, she was completely awakened by a familiar voice on the other end that she hadn't heard in years.

"Beth?" asked her old friend Jenna. "Please tell me I've got the right number!" Her laughter could be heard in her words.

"Jenna? Jenna!" Beth said excitedly, sitting up completely in her bed. "It's Beth! You have the right number! It's me."

"Oh, good! You know me, I always seem to mess _something_ up! Whether it's my lunch order, or my school schedule. Although, y'know, we haven't been in school for a while now...well, college, but I meant, like, _high_ school…" said Jenna happily.

Beth closed her eyes as she listened to Jenna ramble. They had been best friends since seventh grade. Jenna had been one of the first to get the fever in that area of Georgia. Beth hadn't spoken to her in oh-so long.

"I'm so sorry I haven't called in, like, months!" said her friend. "You know I've been traveling all over Europe, though, and phone service was _super_ hard to get, man."

A giddy laugh erupted from within the blond girl. Jenna had always dreamed of going to Europe, and had never gotten the opportunity. Beth held her hand over her mouth, smiling to the point where the corners of her lips were burning. "Jenna, Jenna, it's okay! Don't apologize, please never apologize," she said.

"Beth, are you crying?" asked Jenna.

She laughed. "No, no," she said. "H-how've you been, other than going to Europe?"

Beth listened to her talk all about random things that had happened to her in the past two months, smiling ear to ear still. The girl had grown more used to being placed back in her old life, but talking to Jenna again, alive and well, was like a punch in the chest. How many years would it take for her to remember every little detail about her days before the turn?

"So, anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to go grab some supper with me tonight at Dimple's," said Jenna. "I'm visiting my mama for the weekend, and I just _have_ to see my best friend while I'm in town!"

"Oh, I'd love that! Dimple's was basically the only place we went back in high school," Beth said, accidentally letting a yawn slip out.

Jenna laughed. "And sorry I called so early in the morning, my sleep schedule has been _super_ messed up since I got back from Europe." she said. "Anywho, I'll see you tonight! I'll save all my other stories to tell you over a nice meal."

"Alright," Beth said. "See you tonight!" With that, she hung up the phone, still smiling. She took a deep breath and buried her face in her hands.

If only she had known how much more moving it would be to see her beloved friend in person once again.

When she pulled up to her old high school hangout as the sun's rays were being painted across the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks, she strained her neck trying to catch a glimpse of Jenna. She turned off the engine after stopping in a diagonal parking spot, still watching the people milling on the sidewalk. It was the time of night where the street lights were on even though there was still sunlight. She hopped out of the truck, slamming the door with her eyes still searching for her friend.

A stocky girl with long, chestnut hair turned towards her from within the mingling groups of people, her skirt twirling just above her knees. Her smiling pink lips stood out against her porcelain skin, and Beth's steps quickened to reach her as the brunette waved excitedly.

"It's been so long since I last saw you!" said Jenna as they finally embraced each other.

Beth smiled into her shoulder at the truth she couldn't see which was hidden beneath her simple words. If only Jenna knew how long it had really been.

They went inside the small restaurant, being greeted by countless little tables, each surrounded by mismatched chairs. The oak-paneled walls were adorned with dreamy white lights strung around multiple abstract paintings. Jenna led them to a small circular table embellished with azure glass tiles. Wedged into the back corner, their table had a panoramic view of the dining room.

"Let me guess what you're gonna order," said Jenna as she reached for two brochure-sized menus sitting in an organizer on the table, handing Beth one. "A turkey panini with no tomatoes, lettuce, or any sauce at all, and a side of potato salad."

Beth laughed. "Must've been a lucky guess!"

"Or maybe I have the order memorized since it was basically what you lived off of in high school!" said Jenna, cracking herself up.

Beth kept on laughing with her, half at the actual joke, and half at her high level of amusement. They both had an even more difficult time holding themselves together when the waiter came by, and Beth had to recite the exact order Jenna had predicted she would get.

"We always have so much fun together, Beth," said her friend after we had both calmed down.

Beth chuckled. "We sure do."

They continued the conversation comfortably, never falling into an awkward silence. Their laughter mingled with the other voices from the surrounding tables, and Beth was transported to a peaceful world where her thoughts were completely clear of any memories from the turn. All she knew was Jenna and her bright smile. For a brief moment, life was very simple.

The ding of the front door caused her to glance up, curious to catch a glimpse of the incoming diners. As she watched a grown man walk in with a little boy wearing a play sheriff's hat, she felt herself catapult back to her previous state. Images of Rick flashed by, and she felt herself falling apart again. She heard Carl's laugh, and she remembered Rick placing his hat on her head. She tried to focus on Jenna, to revert back to the previous happy state she was in just moments ago, but the antagonizing memories kept coming all because of that little boy's hat. A simple toy hat made in some factory a thousand miles away, pushed onto a conveyor belt with hundreds of other identical hats, and packed into boxes to be shipped either on a crowded plane or a rocky cargo ship. And yet, this carelessly made toy held so much significance to the girl, and had the power to release a torrent of emotions within her.

Thankfully, the little boy sat out of view, and Beth was gradually able to regain her focus on her cheerful and oblivious friend. When they said their goodbyes at the end of their night, Jenna held onto Beth tightly, and the blond closed her eyes in the embrace. She wanted her life to always be like this; she wanted to focus entirely on her old friends and family. However, she knew how fragile a rope she was walking on. Normally insignificant things could cause her to completely lose her balance, falling into a confusing deluge of thoughts and images. Any simplicity she felt in this strange new, yet familiar, life was a feeble wall which she constantly tried to build onto, brick by brick, but which was continuously crumbled by a ceaseless strong wind.

On the drive home, she tried to avoid thinking about the disturbances she had experienced while at Dimple's. That was all her life consisted of these days: avoiding; avoiding thinking about anything from the days of the turn, avoiding letting herself fall off that fragile rope. And when she drove by a group of people shooting targets with crossbows, she was reminded of the one thing that she now avoided thinking of most of all.


	5. Baked Beans

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

Beth didn't think she'd ever quite get used to waking up in her old room again. It was weird how what once was her normal routine for so many years was now nearly impossible to fall back into. Even after two months, she still awoke expecting to see the thin ceiling of a tent with faint sunlight filtering through, or the swaying branches of trees hanging above her. Instead, she was now greeted by white walls and gossamer curtains.

She stayed in bed for a few minutes after she woke up, closing her eyes against the pale light. However, the voices of her dad and Otis below her window brought her out from beneath her covers. Her bedside clock read 8:12. She walked over to her window a little groggily, bumping into the end of her bed as she went.

The figures of her dad and Otis were heading farther out into the fields, probably to do a morning check on the cattle. The front yard looked peaceful, and she could hear the light wind rustling the leaves on the trees. The sky looked straight out of a 1950s advertisement—so classically blue, decorated with perfect cotton ball clouds. She decided to go on downstairs and feel that inviting breeze for herself.

When she got outside, she went to a tall and fat tree, and she leaned against it. Its bark was coarse against her skin, but a cool breeze was hitting her face just right, so she couldn't bring herself to move. She closed her eyes against the early morning sunlight, letting it warm her eyelids. She wasn't sure how long she stayed like this; it could have been fifteen minutes, and it could have been an hour. She wouldn't have known the difference, for she was completely absorbed in her thoughts. She wasn't thinking about anything in particular, she was just letting her mind run rampant. It relaxed her, and relaxation was one thing she had really missed during her days with the group.

She was snatched out of her relaxed daze by an arm wrapping itself around her waist. She shot into action, moving out of her attacker's grip and elbowing him in his side. She turned around, her breaths rapid and short, to see her old boyfriend, Jimmy, clutching his stomach.

"Beth, what're you doin'?" he asked, looking up at her as though she was crazy.

She covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh… oh, Jimmy, I'm so sorry…" she said. "I thought…" The poor girl wasn't sure what she had thought. Her experiences over the past couple of years had trained her mind to always be ready for an attack, and to defend herself. She was a different person now.

"I come out here to show my girlfriend some love, and I get an elbow to the side," said Jimmy.

"You just startled me," she said helplessly. She went to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Jimmy nodded. "You sure got a strong arm, Beth," he said before leaning up to her and pressing his lips onto hers.

She pulled back slightly, looking away from his eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Nothin'," she lied. She wasn't sure why, but kissing Jimmy didn't hold much appeal.

Her boyfriend furrowed his brow. "You been actin' weird lately," he said. "Come talk to me if you need to, but I ain't dealin' with you right now."

She watched him walk away, surprised at how quickly he left her side. _Daryl wouldn't have left,_ she thought. As the thought came into her mind, she immediately shook her head to stop thinking about it. To stop thinking about _him_. "He's gone now," she thought to herself. "Ain't no use dwellin' on what he would'a done differently." She knew he was probably out there somewhere, but he wouldn't remember anything. He'd be just like her family; he'd have forgotten everything they'd all been through. He wouldn't have any memory of her. She closed her eyes at the thought before going back towards the house.

"Beth, would you wanna come help me with these baby blankets?" asked Maggie as she closed the front door.

She furrowed her brow as she came into the living room where her sister was sitting on the couch. On the coffee table in front of her sat three large piles of small crocheted blankets. "Baby blankets?" Beth asked.

"You know, the ones we started makin' last Christmas to bring to church," replied Maggie. "The charity lunch is today, and it's finally time to bring them in for that charity lunch this morning."

Beth realized that in her sister's mind last Christmas really had happened, and she herself was probably there helping make them. In her own mind, she wasn't even sure what she'd been doing last Christmas. She hadn't even been aware it was Christmas Day when it had come around. However, she couldn't exactly explain this to her sister, so she nodded her head and said, "Oh, yeah, _those_ blankets!"

"I'm just sortin' them into different colors," said Maggie as Beth sat down beside her on the couch. She showed her each stack and explained what colors went into each.

"Okay, I can do that," the blonde said, taking a couple blankets from the unsorted stack.

"So, I saw out the window what happened with you and Jimmy," said Maggie as she folded a blanket before setting it on top of the green pile.

"Oh...yeah, I didn't mean to attack him like that," Beth said.

Maggie chuckled. "I'm just wonderin' where you learned to fight like that."

The younger girl smiled. _Oh, if only she knew._ She thought. "I don't know where it came from," she said instead. "Guess I just got startled and was just tryin' to defend myself."

"Well, I bet this little episode won't hurt you two," Maggie said as they worked. "I would do anythin' to have a relationship like your's."

Beth bit her lip, wanting to take her sister by the shoulders and shake her. She was _married_ , and she couldn't even remember. She and Glenn had one of the strongest relationships Beth had ever known.

"D'ya think I'll ever find myself a Jimmy?" asked Maggie, smiling.

"I'm sure you will," Beth said, but as the words left her mouth, she wondered if that was true. Would Maggie ever find Glenn again? Beth had always believed in soul mates, but under such different circumstances, could they really fall in love again?

"Maybe I could find a strong firefighter or somethin'," said her sister dreamily. "Suspenders stretched over his rippling muscles…" She laughed as she folded another blanket.

Placing a navy blanket in the blue pile, Beth thought to herself, _Or maybe a pizza delivery man..._

"Well, I think Jimmy's a nice boy, Beth," said Maggie. "I'm proud of you for choosin' so well."

Beth looked over at her, smiling slightly. "Thanks," she said quietly. She _used_ to agree with her. She had always thought Jimmy was a fine match for herself, that she couldn't find much better. She still did, somewhat. She would be perfectly taken care of with him. But, that wasn't love.

"I know that he seemed a little angry with you this mornin', but you _did_ hit him," Maggie said, laughing again. "I just know the next time you talk to him it'll be like nothin' ever happened at all!"

Her words made Beth stop for a moment. Lately, a lot of people, such as the entire world, were acting like nothing ever happened at all.

When they got all the blankets sorted by color, Maggie sat her hands on her knees with a slap. "Now that that's done, would you wanna help me and Mama make somethin' for the charity lunch? We were thinkin' we'd whip up some of Grandma's famous baked beans," she said. "And by famous, I mean Greene family famous."

"Sure, I'd be happy to help," Beth said, following her sister to the kitchen. The last time the girl had eaten baked beans, they'd been lukewarm from a can, and she had been sitting in the middle of the woods, eating them without any utensils.

Mama was already in the kitchen, washing a green pot in the sink. She turned to her daughters. "Have you girls had breakfast yet?" she asked.

Of course that was the first thing she says. Beth smiled and shook her head.

"We really don't need it though, Mama, with such a big meal comin' up for lunch at the church," said Maggie.

Mama raised her eyebrows at the older sister. "Don't need breakfast?" she said. "Now, that's just ridiculous, and you know it."

"We wanna get to helpin' you though," Beth said. "And those baked beans take a while to cook."

"Well, they do take time, which is something we're runnin' out of this morning," sighed Mama. "There's some leftover scrambled egg in the fridge from Otis and your father's breakfast." She took her washrag off her shoulder and turned back to the sink in defeat.

The two sisters got the eggs from the refrigerator, got out two forks, and ate the eggs straight out of the Tupperware container while they leaned against the counter. They were cold and slimy from chilling in the fridge for several hours, but Beth didn't mind. She ate pretty much anything these days since she had grown so accustomed during the days of the turn to being grateful for any bite of food she got.

Patricia came in from the fields to help with the beans, and soon all four of them were hard at work trying to make enough baked beans for their entire church and whoever else might show up. The kitchen counters were covered in pans, crock pots, bags of sugar, and multiple other things needed for their beloved recipe.

As Beth browned some pork sausage on a skillet, she listened to Mama and Patricia's conversation.

"How's the cattle doing this mornin'?" Mama asked quietly.

"Two more showin' symptoms," answered Patricia.

Mama sighed. "It sure is spreadin' quickly," she said solemnly. "Have any more been culled?"

"Otis said these two'll probably be taken tonight," said Patricia. "I sure hope we can get this thing under control before the entire herd gets infected."

Beth's stomach dropped with the word _infected_. She turned towards the two older women. "What's goin' on with the cattle?"

Mama put down the bag of brown sugar she was holding. "We've had to cull quite a few sick cows," she said. "Your daddy thinks they're being infected with ulcerative mammillitis."

"What's the disease do?" asked Maggie, concern etched on her face.

"It causes scabs and blisters on the udders," explained Patricia. "And we can't milk these sick cows, either, which ain't good."

"Are they gonna die?" Beth asked, worried.

"Well, we're not sure. Right now we're just keepin' the sick ones separated from the others, but if we can't milk them, we're gonna lose a whole lot of money," said Mama.

"And you said it's spreading quickly?" asked Maggie.

Patricia nodded gravely. "Once this disease gets on a farm, it's nearly impossible to control."

"What are we gonna do?" Beth asked.

"We don't know," said Mama solemnly.

They stood for a moment in a somber silence before Patricia said cheerfully, "Well, these beans ain't gonna cook themselves! Let's get to it!"

Turning back to the pork sausage, Beth took a deep breath. She was getting pretty tired of infectious diseases.

When it was nearing time to go, Beth helped Patricia carry out the four serving pots full of baked beans to Otis's truck while Maggie and Mama cleaned up the kitchen. Once everything was loaded, she rushed back up to her room to change, for she was still in her pajamas. She washed her face in her bathroom, and took her hair down from the messy braid she had slept in. She put on a mint green soda-fountain-style dress, and pinned a section of her hair away from her face. She put on stud cubic zirconia earrings, and slipped on cream colored flats. She met the rest of her family on the front porch, and they headed to the church.

The drive to Mount Olive Baptist Church was a scenic one, filled with images out of the car window that looked like default computer backgrounds. Wildflowers grew by the side of the road, and sugar maples stood with hickory and white ash trees in tall bunches along the way. The road dipped down hills as it wound through the thick foliage. Beth figured she had probably camped out in these forests at least once before during her time with the group.

After a short ten minutes, the two trucks it took to transport the inhabitants of the farm drove down a lane leading into a small valley where an old white church was nestled between the trees. Mount Olive had been established in 1879, and many generations of Greenes had attended church here. It was small, and Beth was one of the youngest people in the congregation, but it was like a second home to her.

She and Patricia were not alone this time when they went to take the baked beans inside. Several people came to help them, and Beth ended up having to carry only one pot. They sat them on the long serving table that was set up inside, among all the other serving plates and pans full of delicious smelling foods brought by other members of the church.

They went and paid for their tickets for the meal; the money from each ticket was going towards the church. Once they were all paid for, they sat down at one of the long dining tables that had been set up in the sanctuary for the occasion. Beth sat on the end beside Jimmy.

"Honey, I hope you ain't mad at me for this mornin'," he said quietly.

Beth put on a smile. "Jimmy, _I_ was the one bein' all weird," she said. "If anyone should be upset, it's you!"

Jimmy chuckled. "You're such a sweetheart," he said, kissing her on the head.

Beth felt nothing at all when his lips touched her skin.

There was a brief speech from Reverend Arther, and after a prayer, they were all able to take their plates and head to the buffet. Beth walked with Jimmy through the crowd to where the line was forming.

Reverend Arther came up to her as she waited in line. "Beth, I'm so glad you and your family could make it out here today," he said in his Southern drawl, his blue eyes sparkling. "I heard ya'll brought your granny's baked beans?"

"Yessir, we made plenty!" She said.

"Well now, that's good news to me!" said the old man. "And I heard ya'll brought the baby blankets today, too?"

She nodded. "Did you want us to leave those here at the church?" She asked.

The reverend frowned. "Now, I'm not sure...I can't quite remember, y'see…" The kind man had been forgetful for as long as Beth had known him, and the entire congregation was used to having to help him along. He leaned over to another member of the church, Doug Redford, as he walked by with a heaping plate of food.

"Doug, do you remember what the committee was gonna do with them baby blankets?" asked the reverend.

The older man smiled. "I believe we decided to take those up to Russellcroft Hospital and distribute them in the maternity ward," he said.

Reverend Arther nodded quickly. "Ah, yes yes yes, thank ya' kindly, Doug!" He turned back to Beth. "It sure was kind of ya'll to make those blankets, Beth."

"It was no problem at all," she said. It really wasn't, considering she had no actual memory of making them. "Maggie and I'll take them up to Russellcroft after the meal."

The reverend smiled. "Alrighty, take care now!" He said. Immediately he noticed someone else across the room and shouted cheerfully, "Hey, Paul! How're ya?"

When Beth got to the buffet table, she piled her plate with chicken and noodles, green beans, creamed corn, turkey, and a nice dollop of baked beans. She got a glass of lemonade and headed back to the table, where Jimmy was already sat down.

The meal was satisfying, but perhaps a bit too much. For several minutes after she scraped the last bit of chicken and noodles off her plate, Beth couldn't even look at the other plates of food around her she felt so sick. Thankfully, the feeling of nausea quickly passed, and she was soon driving in Otis's truck with Maggie on the way to Russellcroft Hospital, piles of baby blankets sitting in between them.

The hospital was an eerily pleasant looking brick building in the middle of town, with simple landscaping and rectangular windows in perfect lines across the front. The sisters got out, and filled their arms with the little blankets, careful to keep them sorted by color as best they could. They walked into the white lobby through the automatic doors, and Beth was hit by a wave of the smell of cleanliness and disinfectant. The lobby wasn't very busy; there was an elderly woman sitting idly in a chair, a young man on his phone, and the secretary at his desk. They quickly turned down a hall towards the elevators. Maggie struggled with her arms full of blankets to get the up-button pressed, causing them both to giggle. When the doors opened, they stepped around a young woman as she exited, and stood alone in the elevator as it headed upwards.

"The maternity ward is on the opposite side of the eighth floor," said Maggie. "We'll have to go through the psychiatric ward to get there."

When the doors opened with a ding, they were greeted by a quiet white hallway. They wandered down it in search of a sign directing them towards the maternity ward. There was no one else in sight, and silence filled the sterile corridor. It reminded Beth of somewhere she might go to for supplies during the turn.

Just as they came upon a sign hung on the wall with arrows pointing towards different areas of Floor 8, Beth could hear voices echoing down the hall. Her and Maggie's heads turned towards the sound as two people in scrubs turned the corner, both of their arms holding on tightly to a struggling man. The man had messy blond hair, and was yelling at his captors.

"WHY DON'T YOU REMEMBER?" he cried. "I DON'T BELONG HERE!"

The two hospital employees tried to hoist him up farther from the ground, and Beth saw that his arms were red from their grip.

"You're not gonna be here any longer," said the woman on his right. "We're takin' you somewhere safer."

"I'M NOT INSANE!" cried the man. "YOU ARE! YOU ARE THE ONES THAT SHOULD BE LOCKED UP! I AM NOT INSANE!"

Beth watched the scene with pity, yet interest. What did the man want them to remember? She felt her stomach turn as she wondered if _he_ also remembered the apocalypse. She forced herself to dismiss this idea, however. This man was obviously mentally ill, and needed help. Nevertheless, the thought lingered in the back of her mind, and she couldn't quite stop thinking about the man's words as he was taken down another hall.

The sisters kept heading towards the maternity ward, the halls once again silent other than an occasional nurse walking by. Neither of them spoke about the episode they had just witnessed, and their silence was somewhat awkward, considering they each knew what the other was thinking about. Eventually, they located the large double doors leading to the maternity ward, and passed out every blanket they had. Beth tried her best to look cheerful as she met each new mother, but all she could see was her own self being labelled insane.


	6. Misty

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

 _The prison staircase wasn't the most comfortable place to sit, but Beth sat there anyway, watching five year old Judith play with Carl on the floor. She smiled as the young girl's bubbly laughter filled the room. She was a shining light in this dark world. Beth was inspired by a little girl, while most people were inspired by great leaders or artists. Judy was an artist in her own way; she chose to live her life in joy, therefore spreading her happiness to others. She lived this way despite leading a life which might have been enough for others to throw themselves off the Brooklyn Bridge; her mother had died while giving birth to her, she'd grown up in an old prison, and the planet she lived on was infested with flesh-eating corpses. Yes, she was an inspiration for all those at the prison._

 _Beth was taken away from her reverie as she felt someone sit down beside her. She turned to see Daryl watching her, a slight smile on his face._

 _"_ _You sure like them kids, don't you?" he said gruffly._

 _She smiled. "Of course I do," she said. "I always wanted at least one of my own."_

 _"_ _At least?" Daryl said with a chuckle, raising his eyebrows._

 _Beth gave a bashful shrug. "I suppose I did always think three was a good number."_

 _Daryl wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and she nestled her head onto his chest. "You would'a made a good mom," he said._

 _She looked up at him. "'Would'a?'" She repeated. "Why can't I still become a mom?"_

 _Daryl looked down at her. "I'unno, you'd...need to find someone to…" His cheeks grew red as he spoke, and he looked away._

 _Beth fought back a smile. "I'm glad you think I'd make a good mom, Daryl," she said quietly._

 _She felt his arm tighten around her. "I know you'd make a good one, Beth," he said._

Beth woke up on the living room couch, fully clothed in a pair of jean shorts and an old school band t-shirt. She closed her eyes again, wanting to relive her dream. Wanting to be with him again. Wanting to be watching Judith and Carl again.

"You get enough sleep last night, Beth?" asked Maggie as she walked by. "You've been passed out on that couch for nearly two hours."

"Oh...sorry," she mumbled sleepily. "Did I miss anythin'?"

"Not really," said Maggie. "Otis got stung by a bee. That's about it."

"Do I wanna know where?" Beth asked.

"Probably not," replied Maggie. "Anyway, Daddy was lookin' for you earlier. He's out in the fields now."  
Beth got up from the couch and put on a pair of black converse before heading out the door. The afternoon was so humid that you could wring out the air, and the windows facing the porch were nearly completely fogged up with moisture. She trudged across the yard, which seemed to grow larger the hotter a day was, and finally found herself at the fence which surrounded the cattle. She climbed over it, the bottoms of her feet stinging as she jumped down onto the hard ground.

"Come on over here, Beth," shouted her father from where he stood with a cow in a separated, fenced-off area.

She went over to him and climbed over the fence, careful not to startle the cow. "Is this one sick, Daddy?" she asked.

He nodded. "It's got some blisters and scabs on it's udder, if you can see," he said, bending down and pointing to multiple inflamed red spots and bloody patches on the soft udder tissue.

The girl bent down with him, observing the wounds with concern. "Is she in pain?" she asked, softly rubbing the cow's side.

"Yeah, I'd say she's hurtin' pretty bad," he said. "I thought maybe you'd want to help me put some cream on her to help with the pain." He handed his daughter a yellow tube of ointment.

Squeezing a small dollop onto her fingers, Beth cautiously moved towards the raw skin. The cow flinched when my fingers touched her wounds, her black eyes rolling back into her head. Beth gingerly rubbed the cream in, keeping her other hand on the animal's side to comfort her.

"Well done, Beth," said her dad when she had finished. "You sure have a mother's touch."

She smiled. "It seems like a lotta people have said that to me lately," she said before she realized she was referring to what Daryl said in her dream.

"Oh, really?" asked Hershel curiously. "Who else told you?"

Beth struggled to find her words. "Just people," she said. "Maggie has before, I think."

Hershel smiled. "Well, it's a very obvious quality of yours," he said. "Just like your own mom."

They continued applying cream to each infected cow until every blister in the barnyard was doctored. Beth hadn't done much physical activity, yet beads of sweat were forming on her forehead and dripping down my neck from the relentless summer sun. Her dad noticed this and smiled.

"You've helped me quite enough this afternoon," he said, patting her shoulder. "Head on in."

Beth smiled gratefully, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Don't stay out here too long, Daddy," she said before climbing back over the fences and heading back towards the house.

When she opened the storm door, she was met with a refreshing blast of cool air on her face. She immediately went to the kitchen and made herself a glass of water. She leaned against the counter with her eyes closed as she felt the cold sensation run down her throat and into her chest. She took her glass with her up to her room where she collapsed onto her bed after setting her glass on the nightstand. She decided right then and there that air conditioning was definitely the best invention of mankind.

Lying on her stomach, she reached down under her bed and pulled out her red colored record machine. She brought it up and sat it in front of her on the bed. Opening the lid, she saw that she still had a record on the turntable—Frank Sinatra. After setting the needle on the record, the song "Misty" began playing, and she leaned back against her pillows. She closed her eyes to focus on every spellbinding note, and hear every word of the lyrics.

Of course, right as Frank sang the words, "I get misty just holding your hand," her mind erupted with thoughts of Daryl. The feel of his fingers intertwining with hers, the look in his eyes when he spoke to her, the feeling of their pinky fingers barely touching. His face was haunting her, and it was times like these where she gave up the fight and let images of him run rampant through her mind. She shut her eyes tighter. How did that rough, motorcycle-riding hunter ever become so special to her? And why did he ever have to? She missed him so immensely that she felt a physical pain in her chest, and she wanted nothing more than to hear his voice saying her name.

But, surely it was all worth it. Yes, she missed him, and all the others, but she was with her family again, and life was back to normal. She didn't have to be on the run anymore. She had her own bedroom again. This life was better. Of course it was. It was, it was, it was.

She was finding it harder to convince herself of this the more she thought of Daryl Dixon.

A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts, and she quickly sat up before saying in the strongest voice she could muster, "Come on in."

Jimmy stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. "You listenin' to Frank Sinatra?" he asked, looking at the record player.

Beth nodded. "Don't you like him?"

Jimmy shrugged, sitting down beside her on the bed. "I'd rather listen to you," he said flirtatiously. He reached over and stopped the record player, and shut the lid. Beth felt as if he had just made Daryl leave the room, and she felt alone.

He leaned his head on her shoulder. "I've only got about five minutes before I gotta get back to work," he said. "I thought I'd come see what you were up to."

"That was sweet of you," she said quietly. It _was_ sweet of him. Jimmy was a good man, and she would be content with him. That is, she would be content with him if she hadn't spent so much time alone with Daryl, if she hadn't gotten to know what a real _connection_ felt like. Jimmy was a spark, and Daryl was a wildfire.

"So you've just been up here listenin' to Sinatra?" asked her boyfriend.

"No, I went out and helped Daddy with the infected cows," she said. "I just now came up here."

"How come you didn't come lookin' for me?" asked Jimmy teasingly.

"I was about to fry out there!" she said, laughing. "If I'd stayed out there any longer, I probably woulda been burnt to a crisp!"

Jimmy looked up at Beth from her shoulder. "It's a good thing ya' came in then," he said as he smiled. He sat up and kissed her. "I better head back out."

"See you later, Jimmy," she said quietly as he got off the bed. He threw her a wink as he shut my door.

He left her feeling very guilty about her feelings for him having faded. He deserved someone, someone good. He deserved to feel that wildfire.

Beth ended up going back downstairs out of boredom, not wanting to torture herself anymore with Frank Sinatra's all-too-relatable lyrics. She went to the kitchen to find Patricia wiping down a countertop.

"Whatcha up to, Beth?" she said as the blonde walked in.

"Absolutely nothing, unfortunately," Beth said, resting her head in her hands and leaning on the counter beside her.

The blonde woman smiled at the younger blonde woman. "Would you wanna come with me to stock up on groceries?" she asked.

Beth sighed contentedly. "Yes, you're a life saver."

Patricia laughed. "Now that's somethin' I ain't heard of before," she said. "Bein' grateful for gettin' to go grocery shoppin'."

They decided to take Otis's truck into town, and Beth climbed in beside Patricia. The truck's aged motor started up with only a couple of groans, and they were off down the dirt lane. The car clock read 4:12, and the dogged sun was still high in the sky.

"Are you gonna spend your entire summer like this?" asked Patricia as she turned onto the main road. "Sittin' around, desperately bored?"

Beth sighed. "I sure hope not," she said. "But it's startin' to seem that way."

She chuckled. "In a few months from now you won't be bored," she said. "You'll be startin' college!"

Beth let those words sink in as she watched the foliage pass by like green paint strokes out the window. She had missed the last years of high school. She would never get them back. She was being thrown into adulthood without a choice in the matter. (Although she supposed it might've felt that way even if she _had_ finished high school.)

"I guess you've still got some time before you have to declare your major," said Patricia. "The summer just started, after all."

"Yeah, I guess so…" Beth said. "I really don't know if I'll go to college at all, though."

The blonde woman glanced over at her. "I think college is a pretty good idea," she said. "But, it's not my future!"

Beth smiled to herself. "I've just always wanted to pursue music," she said. "You don't necessarily need a college degree for that."

"That's true," said Patricia. "I bet you could do it!"

"Thank you," Beth said. "I guess for now I'll just be a grocery shopping assistant."

Patricia chuckled. "For which I'm thankful."

The grocery store served as a good distraction for Beth from thoughts of Daryl, or from any other things from the turn. She read out loud items from the grocery list to Patricia as they weaved among the aisles, dodging several speeding shopping carts as they went.

"Peanut butter and jelly," Beth read aloud as Patricia hesitatingly walked past the temptatious bakery.

"Would you mind running and grabbing that on your own?" asked the older woman. "It would save us some time, and I can go grab the flour we needed."

Beth nodded. "I'll meet back with you in the baking aisle, then?"

Patricia agreed, and disappeared in the mess of shopping carts and food stands.

Beth headed off in search of her assigned items a bit blindly; she hadn't been in this store very much, and when she had, she'd never been the navigator. Finally, she saw a shelf completely dedicated to peanut butter, with a shelf of jellies and jams in the same aisle. She picked out a jar of both, and started back towards the baking aisle.

To her dismay, a traffic jam had formed, blocking her planned route. She sighed, turning around and leaving the aisle the back way. Now she would have to go around to the front of the store to get to Patricia.

Beth knew the older woman's tendency to overly worry, so she sped up her walk as she moved through the different aisles. However, she was brought to a complete stop by a familiar face staring at hers. She slowly approached the newspaper stand set beside the front doors, her heart pounding in her ears. She fought back shouts of pure emotion as she read the headline: King County Sheriff Brings Down Two Escaped State Prisoners.

Rick Grimes sat smiling on the front page, his beard still there, but not _quite_ as bushy and stringy as it had been when she'd last seen it. She took a newspaper from the stack, flipping to his story.

" _Sheriff Rick Grimes of King County, along with the help of Sheriff Deputy Shane Walsh, managed to arrest two wanted criminals who had escaped from Georgia State Prison earlier this week. Aaron Cobwell and Maxine Dade, the two escapees, were reported seen driving a white Ford sedan in King County. Sheriff Grimes and Deputy Walsh tracked the criminals down, eventually stopping them on a rural road. Cobwell and Dade made no further attempts to make a run for it, and possessed no guns. They were transported back to King County Police Station, and have now been returned to Georgia State Prison._

' _I'm just glad someone had been paying attention to the news and was able to recognize the car," says Sheriff Grimes. "If it hadn't been for that person, those criminals would've passed right through our county without a blink of an eye from me or my deputy.'_

 _The official has been applauded all across the state by civilians and state officials alike. 'This just shows how every level of government is important," says Georgia State Prison warden, Kathleen Dotson. 'We're all in this for the same reason: to ensure safety and justice to this country.'_

 _Sheriff Rick Grimes resides in King County with his wife, Lori, and his two children, Carl and Judith."_

Beth had to stop reading here to keep from freaking out in the middle of the store. She couldn't quite process everything she had just read, and her mind was spinning at incomprehensible speeds. Lori was alive. Judith was alive. Shane was also alive, although she wasn't sure if that was a good thing. Did any of _them_ remember? If they did, Rick and Shane must've made up somehow, but she doubted they could ever do that. Still, to know that her old friends were alive and well made her stomach drop over and over again. She took the paper with her as she continued on towards the bakery aisle.

"Why do you have a newspaper?" asked Patricia when Beth met up with her.

The younger girl shrugged. "I thought I might buy it," she said. "The stories all look kinda interesting."

Patricia took the paper and looked at the front page. "'King County Sheriff Brings Down Two Escaped State Prisoners.'" she read aloud before raising her eyebrows. "He ain't too hard on the eyes, either."

"Patricia!" Beth scolded jokingly. "You are a married woman!"

"Now I said nothin' in my vows 'bout not lookin'," she said.

They finished up their shopping and headed back to the farm, Beth's feet all the while feeling like they were at least two feet off the ground every time she looked down at the newspaper in her hands. Once back up in her bedroom, she folded up the paper and placed it in her nightstand drawer, wondering if Rick was wishing others would remember, too.


	7. Cicadas

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize

Beth's fingers gently brushed the strings on her guitar, adding a quiet melody to the hum of cicadas and the other sounds of nature surrounding her. It was only seven in the morning, but the humidity in the air already hung on her skin like a wet washrag. She sat on the porch steps, strumming to herself in her pajamas and watching her father, Otis, and Jimmy's distant figures working in the fields. Peaceful mornings like this helped her remember how good it was to be home. She needed to remember that.

"You playin' a song, or are ya' just doin' improv?" said a teasing voice from behind her.

She turned and saw Shawn standing above her, his ball cap sending a shadow over his cheesy grin.

"I guess you could call it improv," she said, smiling up at her brother. "You know I can't _really_ play."

He plopped down beside her on the step, looking out into the yard. "Sometimes I just don't understand you," he said after a moment.

Beth looked up at him with a quizzical and slack-jawed face. "Why?" She asked, laughing.

"'Cause you wake up so early in the mornin' when it's summer and you don't even have to help with the farm," he said, a sly glint in his eye. "Instead, ya' just come out here and play your guitar."

She scoffed. "I don't _always_ get up early," she said in a playfully defensive tone. The truth was she had gotten so used to waking up early during the apocalypse that she still couldn't sleep in very late if she tried.

"Yeah, you do," said Shawn simply, his eyes still sweeping over the land in front of them.

"Well, I'm sorry I'm so _complex_ ," she said. She went back to her guitar as Shawn threw her a grin, and headed out for the fields where the others were working.

They teased each other, and he was annoying, but Beth wanted to tell him how badly she had missed him when he had been gone. He didn't understand how much his sarcastic comments meant to her these days.

She stayed on the step trying out different chords and combinations until Mama peeked through the front door to bring her in for breakfast.

"Alright, I'm comin'," she said, taking her guitar inside with her and leaning it against the living room wall on her way to the dining room.

In the middle of breakfast, the front door opened and Hershel came inside, his face shining in the light with sweat. "We need more ointment for the cows," he said. "I need to run into town to get some. Anyone want to come with me?"

"I'll go," Beth volunteered. "I'll be just a second gettin' ready." She shoved down her last couple bites of breakfast in one swallow, and rushed upstairs. She kept her hair up in the ponytail she had slept in, and threw on a pair of jean capris and a t-shirt. She pulled on her black converse by the front door, and ran outside to meet her dad.

The car ride was relatively quiet, as most early morning car rides are. The radio was playing low, and the cicadas singing outside could be heard even inside the truck. Beth felt her eyelids growing heavier, and leaned her head against the rattling window. When the forest started to fade into a town, Hershel pulled onto a different road and turned off the radio as they reached the pharmacy. He pulled into a diagonal parking space right in front of the shop, and unbuckled his seatbelt.

"You comin', Bethy?" he asked.

She sat up straighter. "I'm feelin' kinda tired," she said. "I think I'll just stay in the car."

"Alright," said Hershel. "I won't be too long." He shut the truck door and walked into the pharmacy.

The headrest was hard against the back of Beth's head, but she was itching for rest. The morning was getting to her as she glanced out the car windows. Town sure wasn't very busy this morning. There were three empty parking spaces between Hershel's truck and a motorcycle, which was one of the only other vehicles in sight. Beth wondered if everybody else had decided to-

The motorcycle.

Her head jerked back to look out her window at the bike sitting three spaces away. It looked like a chopper, and had tall handlebars, just like another bike she knew. It looked oh-too-familiar for her heart to handle, but there was no way it could be Daryl's; he had no reason to be in this town.

She dismissed her thoughts and pulled her gaze away from the motorcycle, focusing instead on examining her chipping nail polish. The collective sounds of car engines were becoming louder now, and more people were milling about the sidewalks, but those three parking spots remained empty.

She was jolted out of her brief reverie by movement out of the corner of her eye. Familiar movement. Looking out her window, Beth saw a man sauntering around the street corner. Her brain completely shut down for a brief moment as the entire world went silent.

Daryl.

Her mental silence ended with a bang as her mind erupted with a torrent of thoughts and emotion, everything rushing at once. He looked just as he did when she'd last seen him, though maybe a bit cleaner. His dark and shaggy hair still hung over his little eyes, and his clothes were just what he'd always worn when she'd known him. He walked over to the motorcycle, and Beth smiled even wider knowing it actually _was_ his. He turned his back to her, doing something with his bike that she couldn't see through his form. The angel wings on the back of his vest brought on another wave of emotion and nostalgia.

Beth frantically fumbled for the door handle, desperate to reach him and hear his voice again. Finally, the car door opened and she stepped out, shaking with shock and excitement. She started across those three empty parking spaces, but came to a halt halfway.

Daryl wouldn't remember her, just as her entire family hadn't remembered the other members of the group. Did she want her last image of him to be the way he looked at her when they were close, or the way he looked at her as a stranger?

She took a deep breath, knowing she would regret not taking advantage of this moment, not getting at least one more word with him, even as strangers. She started walking towards him again until she was right behind him. She could smell him now, and it was intoxicating. She never thought she would smell him again.

Awkwardly, she reached out and tapped his arm. "E-excuse me," she began.

He turned, and she looked directly into his face for the first time in an infinity. His eyes were piercing at first, then softened when he saw her properly. She heard his breath hitch as he stared at her, not saying a word. She knew he didn't remember her. This was going to be painful, but she was so used to pain.

Then, her old friend said a word she never expected him to say, which widened her eyes and sent the torrent in her head whirling again.

"Beth," he said in a near-whisper.

She took a step back, her world spinning all around her except for Daryl's ghostly white face, which kept still. He looked completely stunned, and his eyes were glinting with moisture as he kept his gaze fixed on her. He reached a shaky hand out behind him, falling into his motorcycle as he tried to support himself. His head was shaking back and forth, his lip quivering.

"Daryl, I..." Beth whispered, trying to pull herself together and stepping towards him again. "Do you...remember?"

His voice was gravelly with emotion as he spoke hesitatingly. "Yeah," he said, his mouth moving slowly, deliberately. "No one else does."

His words made her Beth want to bury herself in his embrace, not just because he was Daryl, but because she now knew she was no longer alone in this. _He remembered._ She opened her mouth to speak again, but quickly turned to check if her dad was coming. She saw him in the pharmacy window, his back turned to them as he stood at the counter to check-out.

"My dad's comin'," she said, her voice gaining strength as she turned back to Daryl. "He'd have a heart attack if he saw me talkin' to a stranger with a motorcycle."

"I've gotta find you again," said Daryl hoarsely, his eyes fraught with determination.

"Can you find the farm?" she asked.

He nodded.

Beth took one last look at him before rushing back to the truck. She hopped inside and shut the door just as Hershel came out of the pharmacy carrying a brown paper bag. He didn't seem to have seen her out of the car, and he didn't mention it on the way home. His daughter didn't say anything, really, for her head almost hurt with the overwhelming swells of emotion she was still experiencing. She sat in a disbelieving haze the entire drive.

She stayed home for the rest of the day, wanting to be sure she didn't miss Daryl's visit. She didn't know when he was coming, but she wasn't going to be able to leave the house until he showed up. She sat on her bed replaying their conversation over and over in her head. She had been separated from him too many times, and to be reunited again was...incredible.

 _How did he remember, though? Why did it seem to be just us two? Why had the rest of the world just erased their entire memories of the apocalypse, and replaced them with new ones? What was different about me or Daryl?_ These questions swam through Beth's mind as she pondered her situation.

She flung herself back onto her pillows, more joyful and confused than ever.

That night, after everyone else had gone to bed, she sat up in her room with one lamp on, giving the room a warm glow. Occasionally she would pull out her copy of Little House in the Big Woods and read a few chapters, or she would get up and pace the floor. Daryl said he would find her. She doubted he would come this late at night, but she still couldn't sleep.

Due to her restlessness, she found herself going back and forth between her bed and her floor, wandering aimlessly around the room. She peered out her window into the vast and endless night, and her eyes traced the edges of the silhouettes of the trees which stood out against the velvet sky. In this silent, dark valley, as the woods filled with the creatures of the night, her house seemed like a warm refuge, an island in a sea of darkness.

Nearly twenty minutes later, as she was reading about Laura and Mary Ingalls frying pig tails over a fire, she heard something hitting against her window. She swung her legs over the side of her bed, rushing to investigate. She pulled open the curtains right as a tiny rock hit the glass and fell back to the ground. She opened the window and leaned out to see Daryl Dixon standing beneath it with a handful of pebbles.

She smiled so wide that her cheeks ached. "What is this, a romance novel?" she asked, careful to keep her voice hushed in the night.

Daryl squinted up at her. "Jus' let me up there, Greene," he said, a twinkle in his eye.

"You're not comin' up the stairs," she said. "You'll wake the whole house up."

Daryl looked down, and nodded. "Any other way you can think of?"

She looked beside her window, getting an idea. "There's always the trellis," she said, gesturing with her head to the arbor which was a little to the left of her window.

The older man sighed. "Alright, but if I fall, I ain't payin' for no hospital bill," he said, throwing down the pebbles. He grabbed onto the trellis with one hand, and a little higher with the other. He tested its stability before pulling himself up and planting his feet within the latticework, careful to step on part of the actual trellis and not a vine. Gradually, he worked his way up, testing each spot before relying on it.

"Don't fall," Beth whispered as he made it to the halfway point.

"You always give the best advice," muttered Daryl with a smirk. He moved his left foot upward as he said this, but didn't test his spot this time. He had stepped onto a vine, and his foot slipped away from the lattice, dangling in midair.

Beth reached her hand out the window even though he was too far to reach, watching desperately as he tried to regain his footing. They were both able to release the breath they'd been holding when he had both feet firmly planted on the trellis.

"I thought I told you not to fall," she said teasingly.

Daryl glanced up at her, smirking. "You don't gotta worry 'bout me," he said.

After what seemed like a lifetime, he finally reached her window. He tensed up at first when she took his forearms to hoist him up into her room, but he relaxed as she pulled him up over the sill. He lifted his legs through the window, and stood for a moment, observing his surroundings.

Beth sat down on her bed, and he followed. He stood by the bed as if contemplating whether or not it would be okay for him to sit down beside her. Finally, he sat down, sitting stiffly.

"It's good to see you again, Daryl," Beth said quietly.

He looked at her. "It's good to see you, too, Beth," he said. They sat in silence for a minute, and she tried to look extremely interested in the floorboards, when he very suddenly wrapped her in a hug. "It's _good_ to see you," he said again.

She returned the hug, welcoming his scent and surrounding arms. Rather awkwardly, they let go of each other, but he turned his sitting position to face her better.

"Why do we remember?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

Beth shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "I've been thinkin' on that a lot."

"I ain't met no one else who remembers, other than you," said Daryl.

"Me neither," she said. "My family...they have no clue. Maggie can't even remember Glenn."

"Is your dad…?" began Daryl hesitatingly.

The girl smiled at him. "He's alive," she said. "So is my mama, and Patricia, and everybody."

Daryl smiled down at his knee resting on the bed. "Hershel's sleepin' right here in this house," he said quietly.

"What about Merle?" Beth asked.

He looked up at her . "Naw," he muttered. "Apparently he died in a car crash six months ago."

"I'm so sorry," she said quietly.

He shook his head. "Don't be," he said. "The asshole was s'posed to die no matter what, I guess."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," muttered Daryl. "He'd already been dead to me for a long time, anyway."

Beth knew he was probably hurting, but she didn't push him any farther. "I saw you got the bike back," she said chipperly.

Daryl smiled. "It felt pretty good to ride that thing again," he said.

They both fell quiet again before he said, "I'm glad your family's alright."

"Me too," she said. "Daryl, what were you doin' in town this mornin', anyway? I didn't think you lived around here."

"I live quite a ways north a' here, but I was tryin' to find work," he explained. "I didn't realize this town was near the farm."

"I'm glad you came," she said, smiling. She reached over to her nightstand and opened the drawer, pulling out the newspaper she had bought with Patricia. "I saw this at the grocery store," she said, handing it to Daryl.

He chuckled. "Sheriff Rick, at it again," he said.

"If you look, it mentions Judith," Beth said happily. "I guess she would'a been born no matter what."

Daryl smiled. His face turned serious again as he said, "D'you think Rick remembers?"

She shrugged. "The article says he had the help of Deputy Shane Walsh," she said. "If they remembered, do you really think they'd make up?"

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip while looking at Rick's smiling face. "I dunno. There's always a chance."

Beth pondered this for a moment before saying, "We should find him."

"What do you mean?" asked Daryl.

"This article says he lives in King County, Georgia," she said. "We could find him and see if he remembers."

"King County's a long way from here," said Daryl.

"I know, but, we could find the police station and track him down, and see if he remembers," she said. "We've gotta do _somethin'._ "

Daryl slowly began to nod. "We could try and find the others, too," he said. "After we looked for Rick."

"How would I be able to leave home for so long, while we track everybody down?" Beth asked.

Daryl's shoulders lowered. "I dunno," he said, leaving the two in yet another silence.

"I could tell my parents that I'm leavin' for some sorta...camp, or somethin'," she suggested. "That'd give me at least the rest of the summer to go with you."

"Like one of those cheesy summer camps?" asked Daryl skeptically.

"Well, yeah, I guess," she said. "Everyone knows I've been bored this summer, so maybe they wouldn't be surprised I wanted to get away for a while."

"But why would you be goin' to a camp?" he asked.

The girl chewed her bottom lip in thought. "Maybe…maybe it could be like a music camp," she said. "For college credit, or somethin'."

Daryl raised his eyebrows. "Do those exist?" he asked.

"Sure, I mean, I think so," she said. "Haven't you seen _Camp Rock_?"

The older man stared at her blankly. "The heck is that," he said.

"Oh, nevermind," she laughed. "Anyway, do you think it could work?"

Daryl nodded, then paused and shook his head. "I dunno...it's kinda elaborate, don'cha you think?"

"Yeah…" Beth said. "I could tell my parents I'm goin' away with my best friend Jenna for the summer."

"D'you think they'd let you?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I think so," she said. "They know Jenna and I haven't gotten to spend a lot of time together lately."

"What if they ask this Jenna about it all?" asked Daryl.

"I suppose I could ask her to cover for me…" Beth suggested.

"How would you explain it to her?" wondered the older man.

"Honestly, she might not need an explanation," she said. "She might cover for me without needing a reason why. She's just like that."

"Well, if it's the best we can do, we'll do it," said Daryl.

"I just…I feel bad tellin' such a big lie to my family," the blonde said.

"We gotta do what we gotta do," said Daryl. "Sittin' on our butts ain't gonna figure none of this out."

He was right. "How about you pick me up at 8 pm next Tuesday at the library?" Beth suggested. "By then I should have my story all put together. I'll say the library is where Jenna's gonna pick me up or somethin'."

Daryl nodded. "What if your plan doesn't work out?" he asked. "How am I supposed to know if you'll be ready on Tuesday or not?"

"If I'm not at the library at 8 o'clock, you'll know my plan didn't work out," she said. "That night you can come back here and we'll devise another evil scheme."

Daryl smirked. "You're hardly evil," he said.

Beth pursed her lips to keep from smiling. "You're not so big and bad as you seem, either, mister," she teased.

Daryl scoffed, a ghost of his smirk remaining on his lips for the next several moments. "I guess I better get goin'," he said. "It's gettin' late."

The girl nodded. "Where are you stayin'?"

"There's a motel a couple miles up the road, I'm jus' gonna crash there for the night,' explained Daryl as he stood up. "Well, Beth, I'll see you Tuesday," he said when he went back to the window.

"8 o'clock!" She reminded him, earning a dismissive wave of his hand and yet another smirk.

"'Night, Greene," said Daryl quietly as he started back down the trellis.

"Goodnight, Dixon," she whispered back.

Beth watched him disappear into the woods, then closed her window and curtains after the sound of a motorcycle echoed into the night. Her eyelids were heavy, and her soft pillow was looking more and more inviting. She turned off her lamp, then curled up in her bed, its quilt still warm from where she and Daryl had sat.


	8. Once Again

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

Grey clouds filled the afternoon sky, and the air held the promise of rainfall. Beth didn't venture outside, however, because her mind was too preoccupied with her fake getaway with Jenna. It was such a huge lie, but she hoped it would work well to get her away from the farm for a while so she could go find Rick with Daryl, figuring this mess out.

She had decided as she was going to sleep the night before that she would call Jenna first to ask her to cover for her if she was ever confronted by someone from the family. She dialed the number on her phone, hoping her friend would agree.

"Hello?" answered Jenna.

"Hey, Jenna," Beth said. "Listen, I need you to do me a favor."

"I'm already scared," said Jenna. "What do you need?"

"Well, it's complicated, but if anyone from my family asks, can you play along like I'm staying with you for the rest of the summer?" The blonde said.

Her friend was silent for a moment before asking, "Are you in trouble, Beth?"

"No, no trouble. I promise," Beth said. "I just need you to trust me, and do this for me."

She heard Jenna sigh. "Alright," she said. "I'll play along if anyone asks me about you."

The girl felt her shoulders lower in relief. " _Thank you_ , Jenna," she said. "You don't understand how much this means to me."

After hanging up with her always-dependable friend, low rumbles of thunder began to echo in the distance. Beth saw through her window Otis, Jimmy, and her father hurry in from the fields as light sprinkles of rain turned into heavy drops that fell like thousands of bullets through the air.

Beth stood up from her bed to go downstairs and talk it over with her parents. She ran over her lines that she had rehearsed in the shower the night before as she headed down the staircase. Her dad stood in the doorway, his wet hair clinging to his forehead. Jimmy and Otis shimmied behind him to get to the kitchen.

"Daddy, could I talk to you and Mama?" Beth asked.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," said her dad. "Why don't you find your mom and I'll wait here."

The girl followed her mom's voice to the kitchen, and asked her to join her and Hershel in the living room. Her mom came with her daughter and sat down beside Hershel on the couch.

"What is it you need, honey?" asked her mom.

"Well," Beth began, sitting down in an armchair. "Jenna's asked me to visit her for the rest of the summer."

Hershel's eyes immediately lowered, and Beth watched her mom tuck her lips together.

"And you want to go, I'm guessing?" asked her dad.

She swallowed, then nodded. "It's just that I haven't gotten to spend a lot of time with her lately, and I miss her."

"I understand that you miss her, Beth," said her mom. "But, don't you think you could go and see her for only a weekend or somethin'? There's a lot of summer left."

"Yeah, I know that I'd be gone a long time, but we were gonna travel around," Beth said. "It'd be nice to get away from the farm for a while, too. Just for a while."

"When would you leave?" asked her mom.

"Jenna said she'd pick me up at the library on Tuesday at eight in the evening," she said.

Her parents fell quiet for a moment in thought until Hershel said, "We'd have to help you pay for gas and food while you were visiting. I don't think we can afford that right now with our cow situation. We're losin' enough money as it is."

Beth closed her eyes. She was lying to her parents _and_ taking their needed money. She felt awful. "I promise I'll pay what I can, and I'll pay you back later for what I have to borrow," she said.

Her mom touched Hershel's hand. "Hershel, she _has_ been bored to death on this old farm this summer," she said. Her daughter smiled, realizing her mom had just covered one of the points she had planned on using herself.

Her dad nodded slowly. "Alright," he finally said. "You can go, as long as it's okay with your mother."

Beth smiled widely at her mom, who smiled back and nodded.

"Thank you!" The girl said happily. She hopped up from her chair and hugged them both.

She was actually going to do this.

After supper that evening, Beth was approached by Jimmy on the front porch.

"So you're goin' off with Jenna?" he said.

She nodded. "That's the plan," she said, turning towards him.

Jimmy took her hand. "I'm sure gonna miss you."

She smiled. "I'll miss you too, Jimmy."

He pulled her into a hug, and she heard him sigh. He really could be so sweet. He was good to her.

"What am I supposed to do 'round here without my 'lil Beth?" he asked teasingly.

"Farming, I guess," she said with a hint of sarcasm.

"Well, it's gonna be _lonely_ farmin'," said Jimmy, smirking.

She wished he could understand what lonely really felt like.

Two days later on Saturday, Hershel came up beside Beth while she was washing dishes in the kitchen sink.

"Beth, your mother and I have decided on the amount of money we're goin' to give you for your trip," he said.

She sat down the cup she was drying. "I don't want you to give me too much," she said. "I have $300 saved up already."

Hershel smiled. "We want to give you $400 to help."

Her eyes widened. "No, that's too much!" She said. "What about the money we're losin' from the sick cows?"

"We'll manage," said her dad gently.

She hugged him. "Thank you so much," she said.

"All I ask of you in return is that you be careful and spend your money wisely," said her dad.

She nodded. "I promise," she said. "You know I will."

He smiled and pushed a strand of blond hair behind his daughter's ear. "I'm just a little bothered that my youngest is now able to go off on a trip by herself," he said.

Beth laughed. "I'll always be your little girl," she said, hugging him again. The image of his severed head hanging from his neck flashed in her mind as she spoke, causing her to shiver and close her eyes tighter against her father's warm chest.

After supper, her parents pulled Beth aside. Her mom placed a stack of bills into her hand.

"Put this with your other money," she said. "And _please_ don't lose it before Tuesday."

Beth laughed. "I won't," she said. "I'd gladly let you take every dollar I made for the rest of my life if that happened." She went upstairs to her room and took her wallet out of her nightstand drawer. She slipped the new bills in with her original $300. _$700 surely should be enough to keep me going for my summer with Daryl,_ she thought. She needed to be able to help pay for gas, hotel rooms, food, and any other added cost. She hoped it would all be worth every last cent in the end.

Despite her undeniable excitement and eagerness for her "summer getaway," she was still incredibly nervous. She hadn't been away from her parents for this long since the days of the turn, and she wasn't sure if she was willing to experience that separation again. Her mind had simultaneously grown stronger and more fragile during the end of the world, and she was worried that being with Daryl again, away from her parents, could be her breaking point, and send her over the edge. It might all remind her too much of the turn. This was just a speculation, however. For all she knew, this adventure could be a different kind of breaking point, one that made her desperately want to go back with the group, to their walker-killing and camping-out days. Perhaps being alone with Daryl again would make her miss it all.

The ultimate goal of this mission was to get answers. She didn't want to not understand her existence for the rest of her life. She wanted to know why she was home again. She wanted to _understand_. If going after Rick was their only lead, then they were going to cling to it and get every last drop of hope from it. It might be futile, but they had to try something. They were blind in this strange new, yet old, world, and she felt helpless trying to figure out what she needed to do. This possibly pointless lead was all she and Daryl had, and it gave her hope, nevertheless.

"Lord," she said, deciding to pray. "Please guide Daryl and I to find some sort of answer. Please just help us find peace in this world, and in ourselves. Thank you, God. For everything. And thank you for guiding Daryl and I to each other again. Amen."

She automatically felt a wave of comfort wash over herself. _It's good to always have Jesus to talk to,_ she thought. She had never lost the Christian teachings she'd grown up with.

She put her wallet back in her drawer before going to look out the window. The evening sky was still clouded over, and the glass was being pelted with gentle rain. It seemed to storm everyday during the summer in the south. She closed her eyes as it thundered, and she was transported back to the floor of that old van. Once again she was squished in beside Rick as the wind slammed against the walls, rain drumming like thunderous applause on the roof.

She opened her eyes, and she was back in her bedroom, safe within her walls. She could still feel the fear pumping through her veins, however. It never really left her, no matter where she was. Ever since the first case of the infection so long ago, the fear had been as constant as the death around her. It never went away, never changed. It was only eased by good company. But even now in her home, with her family all back together again, that perpetual fear still ran along her bones, chilling her entire body. It seemed quite natural now, and she might've felt more strange without it after living with it for so long.

The next morning at church, Reverend Arther mentioned Beth's name in the prayer with the congregation. He asked God to be with her as she traveled away for the summer, and to watch over her. She wondered how the reverend had found out about her plan, but then again, no secret can be easily kept hidden in a Southern Baptist church.

"Will you be traveling far?" asked an older woman from the congregation, Ruby, after the service was over.

"Just up into northern Georgia," she said with a smile.

"I do hope you're not getting in with the wrong crowd," said Ruby.

Beth shook her head. "I'm staying with a good friend," she said. "She's definitely not part of the wrong crowd."

"Well, I hope you enjoy yourself," said Ruby. She, along with several other old ladies within the church, watched Beth with pursed lips. They probably thought she was too young to go off on her own, and she knew she'd be the center of much of their gossip for a while.

Reverend Arther approached the Greene family in the parking lot, and put his hand on Beth's shoulder. "We'll all be glad when you're back safe and sound," he said with a kind smile.

"I know I'll be," said Daddy.

"I'll honestly be fine," Beth said, chuckling. It was nice to have so many people that cared about her, but they were all making such a fuss over her plans.

Once they got home, her mom and Maggie accompanied the youngest Greene girl upstairs to help her pack for the next day. She got out her old school backpack from under her bed. It was strange to hold it again; she hadn't gotten it out since before the turn.

"Are you sure that's gonna be enough to hold everythin' you need?" asked her mom.

Beth nodded. "It'll do fine," she said. Her mom didn't realize how good the girl had gotten at traveling light.

She packed several outfits, and a pair of flats, since she planned to wear her converse tomorrow. Her mom gathered all her hygienic items and underwear. Maggie helped fold a t-shirt as Beth put several pairs of socks in the front pocket of the pack.

"This'll be the longest we've ever been apart from each other," the older girl said.

 _Not for me,_ Beth thought. Aloud she said, "I hope I don't get too homesick."

"You come right on home if you do," said her mom. "I'm sure Jenna would understand."

Maggie laughed. "You'd love it if she came home early," she said.

Beth's mom gave a playful slap to the older sister's arm. "All I want is for Beth to have a good summer," she said. "I _will_ miss you, though, sweetheart."

"I'll miss you too, Mama," Beth said, putting down the headband she was getting ready to pack. "I'll miss everybody."

"I'm sure the trip will be worth it, though," said Maggie nonchalantly.

She prayed that it would.

Bedtime brought a choppy and confusing sleep for Beth; she woke up several different times throughout the night, but she couldn't quite remember everything, and her dreams blended together with reality. It was a very long night, and seemed to leave her more tired than refreshed.

She supposed her fitful slumber was caused by nerves. She really didn't have _that_ much to worry about. If she hadn't been through what she had over the past couple years, she'd have more reason to be afraid. But, she'd really grown stronger because of the apocalypse, and she wasn't a little girl anymore.

Still, she felt nervous. She supposed it was the idea of a new event happening, like the first day of school. Her stomach held a mixture of nerves and excitement, which was an almost dizzying concoction.

There was, however, the worry that came with wondering if Rick would remember. He had been the leader of the group, and to have him there to team up with her and Daryl would be such a help. But what if he didn't remember? What would they do then? She reassured herself with the thought that there were always the others to track down, like Glenn or Carol. _They_ might remember. Rick was just a vital asset to the group.

As she lay in the quiet darkness of her bedroom at who-knows-what-time, Beth wished that Daryl would come right then to take her away. That way she could stop wallowing in her worrisome thoughts and get on with it.

After what seemed like an endless night, she opened her eyes once again to finally see daylight coating the room instead of darkness. She got up and immediately went downstairs.

The day went by slowly, the eight o'clock hour seeming to never arrive. Beth would look at the clock, wait for what seemed like hours, look back, and see that only a couple minutes had passed by. She tried her best to pass the time. She went back through her backpack, checking to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. She did this several times throughout the day, and only occasionally found something to add. She wondered if Daryl was as anxious as she was to get back on the road. She felt it itching her skin, the desire to see Rick again, to find the others, or to find anyone else who remembered.

Finally, Hershel's voice echoed up from downstairs telling her it was 7:30, and time to go.

Beth hurriedly put on a pair of snug shorts and a light blue hoodie. She re-did her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail, and taking time to add in her signature braid. She slung her backpack over her shoulder before turning to take a look at her room.

"At least this time I'll be comin' back," she said to herself. She headed back downstairs, shutting her door behind her.

She received a tight hug from everybody, even Otis. Jimmy gave her a quick kiss after he pulled back from their embrace, and her mom had tears running down her cheeks as she said goodbye to her daughter.

"It's only for the summer, Mama," Beth said, exasperated, as she hugged her. Her mom's sniffles sounded so pitiful muffled by her hair.

"Oh, I know, Beth," she said, wiping her eyes. "You're just my baby, and it's bittersweet to see you doin' somethin' so grown up."

Beth smiled at her. She wished she could have seen her during the days with the group. She had been a steadily-growing leader, and she knew her mom would have been proud, despite what frightening things her daughter's role had entailed.

"We'll see you in a couple months," said Patricia when Beth and Hershel began heading out the front door.

Beth waved goodbye out the passenger window as the truck drove down the lane, and held her backpack on her lap as they drove into town. Hershel gave her the same speeches she'd heard countless times from everyone over the past couple days, such as how hard it was to see her so grown up, or how proud he was of her. The usual dad stuff, overly-dramatic and such.

When they pulled up to the curb in front of the library and saw that no one had gotten there yet, Hershel told her he would wait for Jenna with her. "I'd feel an awful lot better if I got to see you off," he said.

Beth immediately panicked. She wouldn't be able to go with Daryl if her dad stayed. "No, really, I'll be fine," she said.

Her dad sighed. "I know you probably would rather go off on your own," he said. "Are you sure you'll be okay to wait alone?"

She nodded, maybe just a bit too quickly. Her dad gave her a small smile, and put his hand on her shoulder. "I suppose I'll see you in the fall, then," he said a bit sadly.

"Bye, Daddy," she said, returning the smile. She got out of the truck and watched it drive away while she stood on the sidewalk and held onto her backpack straps.

The bright setting sun was hitting at just the right angle to where she had to squint at every distant shape coming down the road to see if it was Daryl. She'd been waiting for nearly fifteen minutes when a familiar motorcycle came rumbling up to the curb.

Daryl wasn't wearing a helmet, and his already messy hair looked even messier from the wind. He had a pack of his own tied onto the bike. He squinted up at Beth. "You ready?" he asked.

She smiled and climbed on behind him. "Let's hit the road, Jack," she said, wrapping her arms around his waist. He pulled away from the curb, and they sped down the road, headed for the unknown. A real adventure, once again.


	9. Home

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

"We'll have to stop at a hotel soon," said Daryl. "We got a ways to go 'til King County, and I ain't drivin' through the night."

They'd made it out of Beth's home county, and she glanced over Daryl's shoulder to see that the clock said it was 8:32. The motorcycle was driving down a quiet road which wound through the woods like a snake.

"Thanks again for pickin' me up," she said over the loud motor.

Daryl grunted as a response. He acted so cool, so apathetic, all the time. Every once in a while he'd break, like the other night when he'd hugged her. She'd seen the true man beneath all that leather and ink. She'd seen the blush on his cheeks and the twinkle in his eye. She'd broken down chunks of this wall he'd built around himself, and she was determined to crumble it completely.

"Didgya' think to bring money?" asked Daryl as he drove.

Beth nodded at first, but then realized he couldn't see her. "Yeah, I brought money," she said, glad he didn't notice her nervous blunder. "Did you?"

"Yeah, I brought enough," said Daryl.

They fell into a silence yet again, the only sound around them the motor of the motorcycle and of other passing cars. She _wanted_ to talk to him, she wanted to pour her heart out to him and let him do the same to her. They both knew each other on such a deep level after their time separated from the group. He still acted indifferent to his surroundings, but he'd gotten so much better ever since that night when they got drunk and she chewed him out. In that moment, she'd seen his true self in full light, and it was the moment she realized he was more than a friend. Not necessarily a lover, but deeper than a friend.

She was still unsure of what Daryl was to her. She knew how her stomach lurched when he touched her, and how she wanted so badly to hug him when he was near. But this wasn't quite a _crush._ Yes, there was a physical attraction, but her feelings toward this man were just so different from anything she'd experienced before. This relationship was so complex, and so wrong. He was her polar opposite and nearly twice her age. She shouldn't be drawn to him at all, but she was. They were moths, and they were each other's lights.

She still wasn't sure what she felt was romantic. His presence was comforting, and his voice was soothing, but all of these things could be seen as platonic. But it _wasn't just_ platonic. It wasn't _definitely_ romantic, either, though. Whatever she and Daryl had was deep and tender, and somewhere in between a love affair and a friendship. The boundary lines were blurry.

It seemed like lately Beth was conflicted about everything. Her relationship with Jimmy. Her relationship with Daryl. Her desire to be at home while also missing the apocalypse. She couldn't believe her life could get any more complicated compared to her days from the turn, but it had. Nothing was simple anymore. Her mind was always fogged up, and her thoughts were jumbled together like a tangled ball of string. Confusion seemed to be her dominant emotion these days, mixed with sadness and anger and happiness. This mixture was, she supposed, the cause of her confusion. Being here on this familiar motorcycle with Daryl once again was making everything easier and harder at the same time, adding to and lessening her internal turmoil.

Her reverie was halted by the sight of town lights shining in the evening haze. The town appeared to be rather small, but there were many hotels, including a Holiday Inn Express, listed under "lodging" on a road sign.

"Wanna stay here for the night?" she asked.

"Fine with me," said Daryl.

According to a bent sign on the side of the road, the town was called Wilton. Wilton didn't have much character, and seemed like more of a truck stop town than anything else. Convenience stores with flickering lights littered the highway which cut through the town, and there were no people milling about the sidewalks. There were people, yes, but they were idly sat on doorsteps or curbs, or leaned against deteriorating bricks walls, watching the bike pass by with cold, uncaring gazes.

A ways into town, a green and pink sign caught Beth's eye. The words "frozen yogurt" brought her back to that afternoon when she first tried alcohol. Daryl had told her he'd never gotten a Christmas present, been on a vacation, or had frozen yogurt. She remembered the sinking feeling she'd felt in her stomach when she realized the life Daryl had led. Even then she had wanted to reach out to him, both physically and emotionally. She knew now that she could start checking things off his list, such as eating frozen yogurt. It was a small thing, but she knew how actually significant it would be.

"Daryl, stop here," she said.

Daryl's head flinched back towards her. "What? Why?"

She smiled to herself. "Just do it," she said.

They pulled into the parking lot, and as Daryl got off the bike he said to her mockingly with a smirk, "This ain't no time for frozen yogurt."

She giggled. "It's _always_ time for frozen yogurt," she said. "We need somethin' to celebrate us findin' each other, and settin' out to find the others."

Daryl's shoulders slumped. "Fine," he said. "Can't hurt."

The shop was an unusual colorful contrast against the drab truck stop town. It was probably someone's attempt to try and brighten up Wilton. However, all it had done was add an out of place building in a town where most residents were only passing through.

Inside the shop, they were met with a wall covered in green and white glass tiles. On this wall were the yogurt spouts. Daryl grabbed two bowls from the counter and handed one to Beth. She watched him study his flavor options with a bubble of laughter in her throat. He looked incredibly out of place in the colorful frozen yogurt shop, yet he was taking such care with his selection of flavors. After he hesitatingly filled his cup with swirls of chocolate and marshmallow yogurt, Beth filled hers with peach and blueberry flavors.

Daryl's grizzly hands looked comical using the tiny green spoons at the toppings station, and he barely fit in the tiny white stool when they sat down at a table.

He stared at his yogurt for a moment before getting a bit on his spoon. "What's this stuff even made of?" he asked.

Beth laughed. "I'm not sure," she said. "But it's good. Eat it!"

Daryl glanced up at her before shoving the spoonful in his mouth. He sat for a moment, processing, before looking at her and shrugging. "Tastes like ice cream."

"But it's good, ain't it?" She said with a smile.

Daryl chuckled, eating another spoonful. "Yeah, I reckon so."

They sat together, eating their frozen yogurt, and Beth noticed Daryl watching her with a smile on his face out of the corner of her eye at least twice.

"So, once we find Rick, d'you think he'll remember?" Beth asked as they walked across the parking lot.

Daryl shrugged. "I hope so. There's gotta be others that remember," he said as they walked around a man leaning against a black van.

"Surely," she said. "Why would it be just us that remembered?"

"I bet Rick's wonderin' that same thing," said Daryl with a smile.

Around ten o'clock they got a hotel. They only got one room, and Daryl reiterated multiple times how they needed to save as much money as possible. Beth got in the shower once they got to their third floor room. As she shampooed her hair, she realized how strange it was that just a few hours ago she'd been at home with her parents, but now she was here with Daryl in Wilton, and she was settling back into the type of life she'd led for the past several years. On the road with a man twice her age.

She turned the faucet until the water stopped, besides a few stray droplets falling from the showerhead. Pushing the wet hair away from her face, she stepped out into the steamy hotel bathroom. She realized with a sinking feeling in her stomach that she had left her pajamas out in the room.

Right at the moment she realized this, the bathroom door creaked open. Daryl's hand snaked through the crack holding her pajama t-shirt and shorts. A sweet warmth spread throughout her body along with a smile. She sighed happily as the door shut and she held the soft clothes to her chest. Daryl was like an ugly truffle with a soft chocolate center.

The bathroom had been warm from steam, but she was met with shocking cold when she came out into the hotel room. Just as she headed for the warm bed, she realized Daryl was nowhere to be seen.

She called his name, the silence of the hotel room making her voice sound louder than usual. In reply, Daryl's head popped up from behind the other side of the bed.

"...What're you doin'?" She asked.

"Givin' you the bed," he replied.

She sighed. "Daryl, we can share the bed," she said. "Honestly, it's okay!"

"I like the floor jus' fine," said Daryl dismissively, lowering back behind the bed, a hint of pink on his cheeks.

"I won't be able to sleep knowin' you're down there," she said. "That floor is _not_ comfortable, Daryl Dixon. And you know it."

Daryl rose from the ground, and Beth noted his change of clothes from while she was in the shower. He was wearing plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt that had an illegible peeling design printed on it. "I'm not really that tired yet, anyway," he said.

Beth went over to the clock radio on the nightstand. "Me neither," she said as, with a click, she turned the device on. Immediately the room was filled with Frank Sinatra's silky voice singing the first verse of "You Make Me Feel So Young." The girl closed her eyes and smiled.

"You like Frank Sinatra?" asked Daryl.

Beth nodded. "Do you?"

Daryl smirked and shrugged. "I guess so," he said.

Beth smiled again, her blue eyes twinkling. She held out her hand. "Let's dance," she said.

Daryl looked at her disbelievingly.

"Oh, come on, we just lived through the end of the world to find ourselves back in reality, and we're the only ones who remember the hell this earth has been through. I think we deserve one dance," said Beth, her hand still reaching out to him.

One corner of his mouth raised as his hand took hers. They moved closer together, swaying to the melody. He placed his free hand on her waist as she wrapped an arm over his shoulder. Their feet moved from side to side as Frank Sinatra serenaded them.

 _You make me feel so young_

 _You make me feel so spring has sprung_

 _And every time I see you grin_

 _I'm such a happy individual._

Beth giggled as Daryl spun her around, then pulled her back into him. With every line, they seemed to get closer and closer, both still smiling and laughing.

When the song faded out, and the sound was replaced with the radio announcer's voice, Daryl awkwardly let go of Beth's waist. His smirk was waning, and he returned back to the other side of himself, the awkward-distant-Daryl. He absentmindedly pulled back the bed covers and climbed underneath.

"So you will sleep in the bed?" asked Beth, raising her eyebrows slightly.

"Oh, uh, yeah," said Daryl, realizing he'd let himself be defeated.

Beth, her eyes still twinkling, joined him, folding her arms across her stomach to hold the blanket close. "Goodnight, Daryl," she said.

"'Night," he replied.

The lamp turned off with a click, and the room was sent into darkness. Even though she had slept in her usual bedroom for the majority of her life, nothing felt more natural than falling asleep to the sound of Daryl breathing. She was finally back home.


	10. Cut to the Chase

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

The loud hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the hotel room. Beth's hand was stiff under her pillow, and her hair stuck to her cheeks. Sitting up, she saw Daryl passed out beside her with his arm over his head. It was nice to see him sleep; he needed the rest. He was probably making up for all those nights of taking watch.

She unsteadily made her way to the bathroom, turning on the light with a click. The fluorescent lighting made her face look pale and washed out in the mirror. She looked more like the old version of herself that was natural to her. Splashing water on her face, she looked herself in the eyes.

They were going to find answers. They had to. But once they figured out all the whys and hows, what would they do then? Go their separate ways? Stay together? Would they just live on, content with their answers? Was that their only mission here? To be content?

She wiped her face with a towel, still stuck with her everlasting confusion, but more awake nonetheless. Daryl's footsteps came from outside the hotel room. Coming around the corner, Beth saw him sitting down in the only chair in the room with his head in his hands.

She stood still, not sure what to do. Hesitatingly, his name slid off her lips.

He looked up at her quickly and cleared his throat. "Thought you were still in the bathroom," he said gravelly.

She shook her head. "You okay?" She asked quietly, taking a step forward.

Daryl nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. "Jus' tired."

She knew he was lying, but she decided not to pressure him. "Let's go get some breakfast," she said, changing the subject. "I'm starvin'."

After a hearty continental hotel breakfast, Daryl revved up the bike, and they set out on the road again.

They left Wilton behind, finding themselves on another country road. Daryl's body was warm in Beth's arms, and she itched to lean her head on his back. From above them came the rustling of leaves in the wind, such a familiar sound. A constant in this world and the one from the days of walkers. Same was the roar of the motorcycle engine. Beth's arms tightened around Daryl with every curve, and he leaned into her slightly. She wished so badly to reach her hand up and feel his heartbeat to see if it was as fast as her own.

There was something different about him from the days after the hospital. During those times he had been more open with her, and sweet. Now, while he was still sweet to her, he seemed more distant. When he looked at her, there was a look in his eyes as if he didn't believe she was truly there.

"D'you remember the house we were gonna stay in?" Beth asked as Daryl drove through a stop sign.

"Huh?" he replied.

"That house in the woods," she said again. "The one with all the bedrooms. Our group was gonna build a fence around it and stay there."

"I don't remember that at all," said Daryl.

She chuckled. "Oh, come on," she said. "I know you remember it."

Daryl shook his head. "Nah," he said. "You sure you ain't imaginin' it?"

"Yeah, I'm positive," she said firmly. "It was after we left Grady Memorial."

Daryl fell quiet. "Guess I jus' forgot 'bout it," he said quickly.

Beth furrowed her brow. How could he have forgotten that house? She didn't need him to add to her long list titled "Confusing Things I Struggle to Understand."

"Well...d'you remember the night with the moonshine? On the porch?" She asked.

"Of course," said Daryl.

"Good. At least you remember _somethin'_ ," she said jokingly. Daryl didn't reply.

The scenery passing by became hypnotic as they drove, everything flying past them at what seemed like the speed of light. The road dipped and curved, never giving in to being straight. They passed through several more towns throughout the morning, all of them small and quiet with water towers embellished with the town's name. At one moment in a town called Lark, Beth happened to glance behind the bike to see a black van.

"Hey, Daryl, the van behind us...I think it was at the frozen yogurt place last night," she said.

Daryl hmphed. "Weird it's in a place like Lark at the same time as us," he said.

"Yeah," she said quietly, more to herself. "That is weird."

They left Lark behind, moving into another community. The van was still driving along behind them. Beth assured herself that it was all a crazy coincidence, that the driver was just going in the same direction as them. Of course that was it, why would it be anything else?

The nervous thoughts in the back of her mind grew more prominent as nearly an hour passed and the van was still trailing behind them.

"Daryl, that Colorado is still behind us," she said.

"You're kiddin' me," said Daryl.

"I think they're followin' us," she said. "Try takin' a weird route through this next town, and see if that van minds its own business."

Daryl did as Beth suggested, making a sharp turn with the chopper down a narrow side street. Beth heard gravel popping from behind. The van was still there.

Daryl weaved all along obscure streets, and the van never failed to stay behind them. The driver, realizing that the two on the bike had also had a realization, was speeding up.

Beth gripped Daryl's sides as she said, "Go faster!" The bike flew forward, and so did the van.

The wind whipped Daryl's hair and her own against Beth's face as they sped down a gravel backroad. The roar of the Colorado's engine followed in close pursuit, an intimidating growl of impending doom.

Daryl cursed under his breath as the bike flew around a corner, sending a trash can flying. They weren't even on a real road anymore, just a narrow break between two decrepit houses. The van—ever persistent—came round the corner.

For a moment, that engine's roar sounded like a horde of walkers. It broke into hundreds of snarls and growls, a chorus of walkers following the bike. Beth could feel them behind her, she could feel the crowd growing closer and closer, each gnarled hand reaching out greedily. But when she turned, she saw that there were no walkers, and the van had been forced to stop at the entrance to the narrow opening.

A relieved smile spread across Beth's face, but it was short lived. The van's doors were opening, and two men were filing out. They wore all black, and to Beth's horror she saw they were each carrying a gun.

"Did you bring any weapons, Daryl?" asked Beth firmly as they flew down another backroad.

"What for?" asked Daryl, his eyes focused ahead.

"There's men now, armed men."

Daryl spat another curse. "I got a gun in my bag," he said over the bike's engine.

Beth reached around him, going for the bag hanging between his legs. She felt around inside until her fingers fell upon the gun. She twisted around, scrunching her face in the sun as she aimed at the men, who were already falling behind.

"If they start shootin', fire," shouted Daryl. His body was tense with worry against Beth's legs. She kept the gun pointed at the men in black, but they never aimed at the bike. They were slowing down, giving up. Beth lowered the gun as Daryl turned onto a main road.

"What the hell was that about?" she said as she turned forward again.

"I don't know…" said Daryl, his voice holding hints of dread and his eyes still set on the road ahead.

They again found the highway, and were relieved to finally return to feeling free. However, right as the town they had barely escaped disappeared beneath the horizon behind them, the bike began to sputter and slow down.

"Outta gas," Daryl muttered as he pulled over to the side of the highway. He kicked the front wheel after climbing off his seat. He wiped his hand along his neck, squinting up at the sky. A flock of silhouetted birds circled among the clouds, hovering and gliding for a few moments, then flapping their wings to propel themselves across the sky before slowly gliding once again.

Beth pushed her hair back from her forehead, exasperated. "It's better than bein' potentially shot at," she said. "I thought we were dead back there."

Daryl flinched at the word, "dead." He turned away as Beth put the gun back in his bag.

"You okay?" she asked as she closed the bag and raised up, eyeing Daryl's somber form suspiciously.

He glanced at her and gave a submissive sigh before saying quietly, "You shouldn't be here."

Beth gave a short, nervous laugh. "What?"

Daryl's face was serious and somber. "You shouldn't be here," he said again.

"I'm not really followin' you," said Beth, watching him like he was insane.

He went quiet for a moment. "You didn't make it outta Grady," he said, fiddling with the motorcycle handle.

"Yes, I did," Beth said. "We all did. Everything was good after that, we escaped, went back to camping...I was fine."

Daryl shook his head continuously, his eyes glinting with moisture as he looked at the ground. "Dawn," he said, his voice growing gravelly. "She shot you." His words were strangled; he was giving all his strength to the cause of fighting back tears.

Beth stood still with a furrowed brow and an open mouth.

"I watched that bullet—I watched...I watched it break through the back of your head…" said Daryl, his shoulders shaking now. "Blood went everywhere...your blood…"

Beth shook her head frantically. "No, no, you killed Dawn," she said firmly.

Daryl looked her in the eyes. "Yeah, I did," he said, pulling in his bottom lip and nodding. "After she killed you. After your body crumpled to the floor like...like a ragdoll."

And now Beth saw it. She saw Dawn's face fading as her own vision curved upward, the ceiling tiles passing by until they went black. She also remembered, however, the bullet from Daryl's gun blowing through Dawn's forehead, throwing the woman's head backward.

Beth's breathing was ragged as she realized Daryl's words could actually be true. "B-but after that...I was with you," she said.

Daryl closed his eyes. "You dunno how much I wish that was true," he mumbled. "But it ain't."

The girl reached up to her forehead, feeling the unwounded skin. Why did she remember camping in the Georgia woods _after_ Grady if she'd been killed?

Daryl took a step closer to her. "You died, Beth. You were shocked to see everyone that'd died come back to life, but you're one of 'em." Two paths of his tears marked his cheeks as he looked into her eyes.

Beth's hand moved to her mouth. She knew his story was true now. Somehow, whether it was the sincerity in his voice, the tears in his usually dry eyes, or strength of the feeling he was radiating towards her. She just knew. "Why are you tellin' me this now?" she whispered. "Why not when you first saw me again?"

"I couldn't stand actin' anymore. Actin' like we both remembered everythin'. All I remember is how quiet the nights were without your singin'," mumbled Daryl croakily. "And I didn't tell you when I first saw you outside that pharmacy because I supposed that I'd be wakin' up any moment," he said. He hesitated on his next few words. "All a'this, seein' you again. It seemed too good to be true. But bein' on the road with you made it all so real, and just now, bein' chased by those nutcases, it just hit me. I needed you to know." The moisture in his eyes was growing again as he spoke, and he looked down again, struggling to hide his emotions.

Beth took a deep, shaky breath. "Daryl... how long? How long was I dead?"

He looked taken aback by her question. "'Bout a year an' a half," he said quietly.

"So...when we saw each other again, by the pharmacy...that was the first time you'd seen me in that long?"

He nodded solemnly.

Beth felt an unreasonable guilt within her. She had felt such a longing for Daryl, and she'd only had to wait a couple months to see him again. She moved closer to him, hesitatingly touching his arm. "I'm here now," she said gently.

"I could'a saved you. I had you one moment. I should'a stopped you," he said.

" _I'm here now_ ," Beth repeated, moving her hand down to hold his.

"But why? Why did we get here?" he asked, his grip on her little hand tightening, and his voice rising, heartbreakingly.

Beth shook her head slowly. "I don't know. That's why we gotta find Rick. We can figure this out," she said determinedly.

Daryl studied her face, his breaths still coming out in puffs. He nodded. "The next town we're gonna pass through is less than a mile up the road," he said. "They might have a gas station, or at least someone who can help us."

Beth returned his nod and gave him a small smile before letting go of his hand. Together, they began pushing the motorcycle along the side of the highway, a newfound determination between the both of them. A newfound understanding.


	11. Sticks and Stones

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

Beth and Daryl had only been pushing the chopper for under five minutes when they heard a car's engine slowing as a vehicle pulled up behind them. For a moment, Beth's heart stopped at the prospect of that black van finding them again. But when she turned towards the car, she instead saw a mutt of a truck—different colored doors and parts patched together like an old pair of worn out jeans.

Daryl protectively moved closer to the young blonde, placing his hand lightly on her arm.

The truck door opened, and a little old man—who couldn't be over 5'5"— with a cowboy hat bounded out towards Beth and Daryl. "Got yerselves in a pickle?" he said, an amused, but kindly, glint in his eyes.

"Yeah, we're outta gas," said Daryl warily.

"Is there a gas station nearby?" asked Beth.

The old man gave a slow nod. "Yes m'am, jus' a lil' ways up the road." His voice was feeble, but he stood straight up with his hands on his hips. "I'd be mighty glad to give you'uns a lift."

Beth and Daryl glanced at each other, unsure what to do.

"That'd be a help," said Daryl finally.

The old man stuck out his tiny hand. "The name's Melvin Clines, but 'round here they all call me Ol' Mel," he said, still smiling.

Daryl shook Ol' Mel's hand. "Daryl Dixon," he said.

"Beth Greene," said Beth, shaking the man's hand as she returned his smile.

After loading the motorcycle into the bed, the three piled into Ol' Mel's truck, with Daryl squished in the middle. It was a wonder how Mel was able to reach the pedals, but somehow he did it without a struggle. Everything about him was comical, and there was a constant sly, witty look on his face. Beth immediately liked him.

Random papers scattered his dashboard, and there were chains piled on the floor. Beth doubted he ever used those chains, but they were in his truck nevertheless. Most of the random objects cluttering the cabin were most likely useless, but Beth figured that in Ol' Mel's mind he just _might_ need this stuff someday.

"Now what brought you two chickens to the side of the highway?" said Ol' Mel over the blasting A/C.

"We're travelin' to see some friends," answered Beth, practically shouting. "We weren't expectin' to run out of gas like that."

"Is anybody ever expectin' that?" replied Ol' Mel as he guffawed.

Beth and Daryl glanced at each other, mutually amused by the little man. The rest of the car ride into town, Ol' Mel told stories from his past, or as he called them, "ol' knee-slappers," that always ended in his loud, hollering laugh. His cheeriness and sharp wit were taking the duo's minds off of the heavy conversation they had just shared.

"Sure is nice to hear some young voices in this ol' truck again," said Ol' Mel.

"Why's that?" asked Beth, looking around Daryl.

"Well, I got a daughter—can't be much older than yer own age—who moved away a while ago," explained Ol' Mel. "It gets awful lonely without her some days."

Beth smiled sadly, not only at Mel's story, but at the thought of her own dad. She hoped he was alright back home, along with the rest of the family. For a moment, she felt a pang of homesickness within her, but when she looked over at Daryl watching Ol' Mel, and felt his leg and his arm against hers, she felt right at home again.

"Thanks for the ride," said Daryl to Ol' Mel when they arrived at the gas station.

"Much obliged!" said Ol' Mel, leaning out his car window. "Hope you'uns get to where yer headed to!"

Daryl glanced at Beth, smiling slightly. "Me too," he said.

"Yer an awful nice match for each other," said Ol'Mel as he pulled away after they had unloaded the motorcycle.

"Oh, oh we're not…" began Beth, but the truck was already pulling onto the street. Daryl shuffled awkwardly beside her.

They waved goodbye to Ol' Mel, and watched the mismatched truck drive off down the road.

"He was quite the character," said Beth, bashful after the old man's words.

Daryl chuckled embarrassedly and agreed. "Let's get some gas in this thing," he said.

As the sun traveled across the sky, they passed sign after sign, each announcing a different town. Their conversation was little, for it wasn't really needed; they spoke through lingering touches and moments of leaning into one another that neither would fully admit to themselves meant anything. The clamor of passing cars and the roar of engines filled the heavy Georgia air, but Beth and Daryl's world was calm. After Daryl's confession on the highway, they were at peace in a quiet understanding with each other. They felt each other's hurt, and they shared the same sadness. But, perhaps more importantly, there was an undeniable compassion between them. That compassion had been deeply rooted with the first inklings of their relationship the day they found the moonshine, but it had only blossomed further with Daryl's cathartic confession. And now, despite their ongoing problems with being thrown back into reality and the myriad of questions haunting both their minds, an even stronger sense of harmony had settled around the two, binding them closer together, both figuratively and literally.

Daryl especially seemed more relaxed now that he had revealed the truth to Beth. He leaned himself into her as they drove, and he seemed more like the Daryl she had shared the funeral home with rather than the Daryl she had shared the car trunk with.

"We're gettin' close," he said when the sun was high in the sky. "Tonight we'll be catchin' up with the Grimes."

"D'you think we could stop for a bite to eat?" asked Beth. "It's half past noon."

Without a word or a turn signal, Daryl pulled into the gravel parking lot of a rundown building. A sign hung above the door that read, "Antiques" in a simple black font. Beside that hung a sign that read, "Lunch 10:30-2:00."

"Daryl, this is an antique store," said Beth hesitatingly as the bike's engine shut off.

"They got lunch, says so right there," he replied, acknowledging the tiny sign as gravel crunched beneath his feet.

Beth smiled amusedly as she followed the man into the building. The ding of the store doorbell briefly interrupted "Total Eclipse of the Heart" playing faintly over the sound system. Random objects cluttered the cream metal shelves and glass cases which stood in aisles and lined the walls of the cramped store. No one was in sight.

The door shut behind them with a hiss as the hot Southern air was smothered by the cold air conditioning. Beth pulled her backpack straps higher onto her shoulders as she glanced around, curious to see if there was a living soul to be found.

"Think anybody's home?" asked Daryl.

Beth gave a little shrug, then coughed as loudly as she could. Her cough echoed off the glass cases and shelves, and the two waited for a response. None came. Beth wandered over to an archway in the right hand wall. "There's a room down this way,' she said.

"S'too bad your coughing tactic didn't work," Daryl said with a smirk as he followed the blonde down the hall. "I would'a been impressed."

The hallway emerged into a small room with white plastic tables lining the walls. The hum of vending machines almost overpowered the far-off voice of Bonnie Tyler, whose singing was still filling the store. A woman stood behind a cut-out in the wall which looked into a small kitchen. She glanced up as Beth and Daryl walked into the dining room.

"Can I do somethin' for ye'?" she asked, unsmiling. She placed her hands on the counter, the movement causing the flab on her arms to bob back and forth momentarily. Her eyes were like little black raisins pressed into her face as they flicked over the two customers.

"You serve lunch?" asked Daryl.

"Did ye' read the sign out front?" asked the woman, her expression unchanging and her eyes unmoving.

Daryl grunted and shifted his feet. Beth moved forward, smiling at their gruff adversary.

"What's on the menu?" she asked, staring into the beady, raisin eyes.

"Today we jus' got frito pie," replied the other woman.

"That sounds real nice," said Beth, still smiling kindly despite her emotionless intercoluter. "We'll have two bowls of that, please."

"Ye' payin'?" asked the woman coldly.

"...I was plannin' on it," said Beth, whose hands were in the middle of reaching for her wallet in her bag.

"Lemme get my half," said Daryl, stepping up to the counter.

"I don' care who pays for what, jus' so long it all gets paid for," said the woman.

Daryl glanced at Beth before pulling out his own wallet. They paid for their food, and watched as the woman dished out their chili in the kitchen into two paper bowls.

"I don' recognize ya'll. Where are ye' headed?" she grumbled, her ladle clanging against the inside of an industrial crock pot that looked like it belonged in World War I.

"King County," replied Daryl.

The woman merely grunted in response. She curtly sat the bowls on the counter without another word. The pair took their food and sat down at the table farthest from the counter.

"She sure don' mess around…" said Daryl quietly, but still loud enough to elicit a look from Beth that said _would you like to say that any louder_ as he slid into his seat.

Beth began to dip her plastic spoon into the rust colored chili. Thin, watery brown liquid filled the spoon, followed by chunks of shredded beef as she sunk the utensil deeper in the bowl. She glanced up as she took the first bite. Daryl hadn't taken a bite yet.

He stared down at his bowl, his spoon moving in slow, methodical circles along its circumference. Beth watched as he dragged his utensil up along the bowl's rim, then down again into the chili. He pushed clusters of beans up against the rim, then slowly pushed them back out.

"Are you gonna eat it?" asked Beth slowly.

Daryl glanced up at her, and shuffled in his seat, clearing his throat. He quickly shoveled a spoonful in his mouth.

Beth gave him a small smile. "Are you still thinking about what you told me back on the highway?"

Daryl nodded slowly. "I don' think I ever won' be confused 'bout it," he said.

"Me neither," replied Beth. "I've got a thousand questions that I just don't think I can answer."

The man hesitated before saying, "I jus'... I've been wonderin'... what did you see after… after Grady?"

"Well… that's one thing I don't understand," began Beth. "I was with you. And Rick. And Glenn and Maggie. I was with the whole group, and we were on the road, like normal. It was like I'd survived even though, I guess… I hadn't."

Daryl shook his head. "I jus' don' see how that's possible," he said.

Beth shrugged. "I guess it was some sorta figment of my mind," she said, shrugging. "Even though it seemed completely real."

"But your mind wasn't exactly workin'," said Daryl quietly, using the tip of his spoon to saw a bean in half against the side of the bowl

"I know, it doesn't make any sense," said Beth. "But it's what happened. I was there. It wasn't even dreamlike, everything looked so real."

"Well, I guess-" began Daryl, but he cut himself off as he glanced out the window beside their table. "Beth. Beth we gotta go," he said firmly.

"Why?" asked Beth. She followed his gaze out the window to the large black van that had just pulled in the parking lot three spaces away from Daryl's bike.

Daryl's hand reached across the table and gripped her wrist. "C'mon," he said. He stood up from his seat and pulled Beth along with him. She fumbled with her backpack strap, and he stood waiting for her, his hand still outstretched towards her. They hurriedly made for the exit of the dining area, but a terse voice from behind stopped them.

"Suh'm wrong with the frito pie?" asked the woman, eyeing them suspiciously.

"No m'am, it was just fine, we're just in hurry, is all," replied Beth, her excited nerves sneaking their way into her voice.

The woman stepped out from behind the counter towards the two. "Now you may be a dainty lil' girl, but I know a troublemaker when I see one," she said to Beth. Turning to Daryl she added, "You on the other hand, well, you're jus' obvious."

"We ain't in trouble for nothin'," said Daryl, taking a step towards the woman.

"I don' think I quite believe ya'," said the woman. "That van pulls up, a buncha men in official uniforms come out, an' you two go paler than Boo Radley's behind. And I ain't about to let two delinquents escape without a scratch from _my_ store."

"That's very noble of you, m'am, but honestly, we're not criminals, just in a hurry," said Beth. Just as Daryl's hand was pressing into the small of her back, urging her forward, the ding of the store's doorbell rang out, reverberating down the hall and piercing Beth's chest like a needle-point dart. Daryl's fingers dug into her back as the sound of the bell and his drumming heart ricocheted off of his ribcage.

Murmuring voices could be heard in the storefront, and Beth and Daryl knew their chances of escape were waning. Whoever was in that black van was serious about having a little chat with them. That van had been tracking the motorcycle's path for miles.

Daryl cursed as he realized there was no going back down the hall they had originally come down. He twisted back towards the counter, and clutched Beth's wrist in his clumsy fingers. Pulling her with him, he pushed against the counter with one hand, launching himself over it, his boot barely missing the now screaming woman's face. Beth leaped over with him, and together they ran back into the kitchen.

"GET OUT'A MY KITCHEN, YA' FELONS!" cried the woman. The riders in the black van rushed into the dining area, startled by her screams.

"What felons?" asked one man dressed in all-black combat gear, his hand on his gun holster.

"A MAN AND A BLOND GIRL!" yelled the woman, holding her ladle defensively.

The man motioned to his counterpart "Find them!" he said as they moved into the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Beth and Daryl were frantically looking for an exit in the back of the store.

"They're comin' this way!" whispered Beth through clenched teeth.

Daryl stood still, glancing around them for some means of escape. His eyes glinted as they fell upon a large metal shelf of various pots and pans. "Climb up there," he said.

Beth sighed, but could think of no better option herself in the panic of the moment. She went up first as Daryl held the shelf steady, his nervous gaze glued on the hallway from the kitchen. He boosted her up onto the top tier, and she scurried behind a mountain of boxes. Her weight steadied the shelf for Daryl to climb up next. He was finding his foothold on the second tier when the two men charged into the tiny back room, their hands on their holsters. Daryl jumped down off the shelf, his hands held up defensively.

"Where's the girl?" asked one of the men.

Daryl grabbed a can opener off the shelf beside him and held it up as his weapon as he slowly backed away. "Why d'you wanna know?" he asked angrily.

"We don't want to hurt you," said one man, who, despite his words, kept a hand on his holster.

"You sure didn't seem to have such kind intentions when y'were gettin' your guns out at us," said Daryl.

"We were just preparin' to blow out a tire if we had to," said another man. "We simply need you to come with us."

Daryl stood for a moment, his eye twitching as he hesitated. The can opener wavered in the air as he contemplated the situation. The men watched him carefully, expectantly.

The brief moment of quiet was broken by the crash of glass as a box of mason jars tumbled down onto one of the men from atop Beth's hiding place. "Daryl, go!" she shouted as she jumped down from the shelf. She fell into a clump at the feet of her shocked pursuers, but quickly got up.

Daryl pushed a heavy shelf onto the men before rushing out into the kitchen with Beth by his side. The shelf fell onto the foot of one of the men, but he quickly recovered, and both men chased after the rogues.

When Beth and Daryl emerged once again in the presence of their favorite chili server, they barely dodged her whirling ladle. Beth's hands fell upon the woman's hearty forearms as she held her back. The blond managed to push the woman back into the counter and dash around the corner after Daryl just as the pursuers filed into the kitchen. They caught sight of the blond flash of her ponytail and hastened after her.

Beth felt a hot burning in her lungs as she ran down the hall, but she wasn't sure if it was from the running or her rushing adrenaline. She could hear the heavy footfalls of her pursuers, but she couldn't bring herself to glance back. Her body and mind were solely focused on moving away, away, away. But as she maneuvered among the glass shelves, the echoing shouts of those behind her began to mingle with the gnarled cries of walkers, and she felt her throat constricting at the sound. She could hear them, their haggard bodies limping towards her, closing in. She could smell the rotting corpses as they hurried down the hall behind her. The sense of panic in her stomach that bubbled up at being chased was all too familiar. Finally she risked a glance behind, and at the sight of one of the men in black, very much alive, the visions of walkers faded.

They were in the main room now, and the sunlight was glinting off the glass front door like a beacon. As the two rushed towards it, the other man in black opened it from the outside. Beth and Daryl skidded to a stop, and attempted to turn around. They were stopped by the second man, who halted right behind them in the main room.

Before any words could be uttered, Beth and Daryl rammed themselves into the man in the doorway. He wrapped his arms around Beth, attempting to pull her to the ground with him. His body was heavy against hers, and the soles of shoes slid against the slick tiles. Using every ounce of strength she could muster, she drove her elbows into the man's ribcage, weakening his grip. She slipped out the door with Daryl, running now into the open gravel parking lot. The men were slowing as they followed them now, but each one had a gun in hand.

Daryl stopped at the sight of the firearms, taking a step in front of Beth. He'd already seen a bullet tear through the back of her head once; he wasn't about to even risk seeing that bloody image a second time. These people were too easily drawn to their guns for his liking.

"Just. Listen," began one of the men. "We need to take you in for questioning."

"What d'ya need to ask us?" asked Daryl, still standing defensively and ready to jump into action at any moment.

Silence filled the parking lot, aside from the cars passing by, whose passengers were surely pressing harder on the gas at the sight of a gruff man standing in front of a young girl while being held at gunpoint, if they even noticed. Gravel crunched under Daryl's feet as he repositioned himself in his defensive stance, and Beth held her breath as she studied each man's finger on each trigger.

 _Bang._

The silence was shattered as the gunshot rang through the air. Daryl fingers splayed out as he sucked his breath in so that his chest ached. He twisted his head back and felt an immediate rush of relief to see that Beth had not been the victim of this gunshot.

Among the two men holding their guns, one stood shaking. "I-I thought he was about to move," he said as his companion turned on him in angry shock.

"Daryl, go, go," said Beth urgently. She and Daryl ran to the motorcycle, using the man's mistake to their advantage. Daryl started the bike and immediately pulled a sharp turn, slamming on the gas and flying behind the building, out of the sight of their pursuers. The other man aimed at the bike's tires, but was helpless in his moment of confusion at his colleague's fault.

"You damned idiot!" he yelled. "D'you think shootin' at them when they're just standing there is gonna convince them to come with us?"

The man who had fired the mistaken gunshot still shook, but kept his feet firmly in their place. "I was ready to do whatever I had to do in order to fulfill my instructions," he said, his voice wavering. "I mistakenly thought the man was about to advance on us."

"Just be grateful I don't use my own gun to shoot you in the dang foot!" yelled the first man. "And don't think Pearson won't hear about this. The research he's protecting is too important for idiots like you to go around killin' the subjects!"

This conversation was not heard by Beth or Daryl. The bike was already on the back roads behind the shop, weaving through the brushy woods at top speed. Both of their chests were heaving, minds whirling, and knuckles white; Beth's as she latched her fingers onto Daryl's torso, and Daryl's as he gripped the handlebars. They sped along in silence, until the side street merged into the highway.

"I ain't gonna let them peabrains take us away from what we set out to do jus' 'cause they're in uniform," said Daryl.

Beth didn't reply. She was beginning to form a worrying thought in the back of her mind that answers might be awaiting them if they went with those men. Their pursuers were intent upon their purpose, whatever that may be. They claimed they meant no harm. She knew that Daryl would never give in to them, not when they would deter his getting to Rick. She just hoped they weren't trying to make a fire with sticks while ignoring the man with the lighter.


	12. Embers

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

There is something different about the world when it is about to rain. It's as if everything on earth can feel the clouds' tension as they swell with moisture. The air is heavy with this tension; it weighs down the tree branches and the telephone wires as the anxious wind pants and sighs. It sends ripples through the expectant grass, which waves and dances, ready for the shower. The birds flock together to the trees and bushes, for they too can feel the tension in the air. They feel its weight as the sky darkens. The shadows deepen, until it's as if all the world is but a shadow in this gloom. The purple clouds with their rolling crevices and slopes fill the spaces left between the trees and buildings, making everything beneath them two shades darker. The world when anticipating rain is a dim world, one that is listening intently, waiting in an eerie calm for the skies to break open.

This was the world surrounding Beth and Daryl as they coasted down the open road before them. The rippling heat at the ever-present horizon was soon to be smothered by the curtains of rain which were moments away from washing over the ribbon of a highway.

"We should make it to King County 'fore supper," said Daryl as he eyed the clouds.

"D'you think they'll make it, too?" asked Beth. "Y'know, our nice little shadows."

"I'unno, but if they do, at least we'll have Rick," said Daryl.

"If he remembers," said Beth.

"If he remembers," repeated Daryl.

"Did you see that sign just now?" said Beth as she turned her head to watch a road sign fly by. "King County was listed with an arrow pointin' ahead."

Daryl gave a small smile. "We're gettin' there," he said. "Did you happen to see the miles?"

"No," said Beth dejectedly. "But at least we're close enough for it to even be mentioned on road signs."

It wasn't ten minutes after Daryl had taken their exit that he slowed and stopped the bike in front of the King County line. Just as the wheels stopped turning, the rain came pouring down, releasing the world from its expectant state.

"We made it," said Beth, looking up at the green sign through the curtains of rain.

"We ain't found him yet," said Daryl. He glanced back at Beth who was frowning at him.

"You don't have to be such a downer." She shook her head.

Daryl smirked. "Well I said 'yet.'" He revved the bike back up and pulled ahead of the county line.

Despite the border not actually being a physical line distinguishing one county from the next, everything looked different to Beth after crossing it. Each leaf and branch on the trees lining the road seemed to hold promise, and even with the rainy sky, there was a sense of hope in the air. Hope that answers were looming just beyond the county line. This was Rick's land, these surroundings were his. Somehow everything looked like him.

As she took in these surroundings, Beth noticed a flock of birds moving together from branch to branch along the roadside. They moved like the tide, in and out, individual yet one in their movements. They were each a deep shade of velvet black, but in the overcast light each bird had an almost emerald sheen to its feathers. Their eyes were so large and yellow in contrast to their dark feathers that Beth could see them from the motorcycle.

"Those are blackbirds," she told Daryl. "They represent a good omen, even though you wouldn't think it by lookin' at them."

"How the hell d'you know that?" asked Daryl. "D'you jus' have a store of bird symbolism trivia up there or somethin'?"

Beth laughed. "My grandma had a book on birds that I always read at her house when I was little," she explained. "We would sit by her bay window in her living room, and she would tell me what each bird supposedly represented, and blackbirds represented a good omen."

"D'you believe that stuff?" asked Daryl.

Beth watched the blackbirds again. "I'd like to," she said wistfully. "We could certainly use a good omen right now."

"I never used to believe in shit like that," muttered Daryl. "Omens, and- and miracles, and things like that."

Beth mulled over his comment for a moment. "What do you mean, 'used to?'" she asked.

"Start lookin' for the police station," was all Daryl said in reply. "We're gettin' into town now."

Beth knew him better than to just dismiss what he had said. She smiled to herself, wanting nothing more than to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him close, letting him know that it's okay to feel the things he felt. But she didn't. She stayed behind the thin boundary line between them, the line they'd been dancing around for so long. She did, however, take one tiny step closer by cinching her arms just a _bit_ tighter around his waist- just tight enough for him to feel her squeeze. Just tight enough for him to understand the comfort Beth was constantly trying to give him while still staying behind that boundary line. She was closer to crossing it these days than she'd ever been, yet they still were continuing their exasperating dance.

The town grew around them as the bike continued on through the rain; the soaked cement was painted with colorful reflections of stoplights and headlights. Both Beth and Daryl's eyes were intent on each word on every sign that went by, searching for some sign of a police station or sheriff's department. Somewhere that could lead them to Rick.

"Daryl!" cried Beth suddenly. The bike came to a brief, abrupt halt as Daryl's foot slammed on the brake at Beth's sudden outcry. The car behind them gave an annoyed honk as they, too, jolted to a stop.

"That sign up ahead says sheriff's department," said Beth,"Turn there!"

Daryl released his foot from the brake and pulled ahead to the turn by the sign. He turned onto a street with parked police cars visible farther down the way. Beth felt her nerves and excitement bundling together into a ball, settling in at the bottom of her stomach and burrowing into the walls of her chest. Her emotions were only heightened as she and Daryl were approaching the sheriff's office.

"He better not be on summer vacation," muttered Daryl.

"He won't be," said Beth assuredly. She was so certain of it now- they were going to get everything figured out. Rick would remember; he would be so glad to see them. She couldn't wait to see his face when he saw her, alive and well.

Daryl glanced at Beth with a small smile before opening the door for them. Beth walked in first, and Daryl kept his fingertips on her shoulder. Together, they approached the empty front desk.

"Anybody home?" asked Daryl loudly, looking into the back room behind the desk.

"I'll be right there," said a familiar voice. A voice that hitched both Beth and Daryl's breath the moment they heard it. Daryl's hand grasped Beth's forearm, and she moved her other hand across her body to cover his fingers.

A shadow moved across the frosted glass windows looking into the back room. It was the silhouette of a tall, solidly built man. The silhouette's hand reached up to rub its head before turning the corner of the doorway. The man finally stood before Beth and Daryl as he walked to the desk.

Shane.

"What can I do for you?" he asked gruffly, oblivious to their shock.

"We-uh, we're lookin' for Rick," stuttered Beth. "Sheriff Grimes."

Shane glanced up at her. His eyes flicked over her face, examining her. He smiled coyly. "Well, maybe I can do for you whatever you think Sheriff Grimes can."

Beth grimaced under his intense gaze. He obviously had no memory of her or Daryl, but was interested in her for other reasons she didn't want to dwell on. "Sir," she began.

"Now why don't you just tell me why you need to see the sheriff, sweetheart," said Shane, cutting her off.

Daryl stiffened beside Beth, his grip on her arm tightening. "Listen, we need to talk to the sheriff, not his deputy," growled Daryl. "That's all you need to know."

"Can you tell us where he is, or are you not permitted that sort of knowledge?" asked Beth.

Shane straightened himself against the desk, setting his jaw. "He's at home today," he said, nodding. "But, uh, I can tell you how to get there."

"Thank you," said Beth. "We really do appreciate it."

After Shane had told them how to find Rick's house, Beth and Daryl returned to the parked motorcycle outside the building.

"You holdin' up alright?" asked Daryl.

Beth nodded. "Yeah, of course," she said. "It's just…"

"What?" asked Daryl.

"Seein' Shane, after all this time, it made me realize… Rick might not be the only person home," explained Beth as she took her seat on the bike. "Carl, Judith… Lori."

Daryl nodded as he hopped on in front of Beth. "Yeah, I was thinkin' about that, too."

"They really could remember," said Beth excitedly. Now images of the entire Grimes family crowding her, embracing her in a moment of overwhelming joy flooded her mind.

For Beth, the bike couldn't get to the Grimes' house fast enough.

They had barely pulled up to the sidewalk before she was throwing her leg over the seat and hopping off. She stood for a moment, gazing up at the pretty house, imagining what each Grimes was doing inside.

"I guess this is the place," said Daryl.

Beth nodded, smiling triumphantly. "It is," she said. "I can tell. The paint color, the flowers… it's exactly how Lori would fix it up."

They walked up the front walk, up the porch steps, together. Standing before the front door, they exchanged a look.

"You ready?" said Daryl, watching Beth with twinkling eyes.

Beth exhaled. "I've been ready since I woke up, back on the farm."

Daryl reached out and pressed the doorbell twice. A moment of silence that seemed excruciatingly long came after. They waited. A dog barked in the distance. The obnoxiously loud songs of cicadas echoed all along the street. A mini-van drove by with wheels that creaked with every rickety turn. Daryl was reaching out to ring the bell a third time when the doorknob turned.

"Can I help you?" said the man they'd driven across the state to see.

For a fraction of a moment, Beth was so overcome with joy at the sight of Rick, that his lack of shock or excitement at the sight of _them_ didn't register in her mind. This brief moment of false naivety, of the same false hope that she had been harnessing for months, was slowly tipping, until she realized finally the unwanted truth, and it all came crashing down. Rick didn't remember.

Daryl coughed and shifted beside Beth. "We, uh, we needed to talk to you," he said quietly.

"What about?" asked Rick, resting one hand on his side.

"Well, first of all, do we… do we need to introduce ourselves?" said Daryl. He was giving it one last try, a small part of him hoping that Rick would break into laughter at any second, that it would all be a big joke, and of _course_ he would remember.

"If you want me to know your names, then I reckon so," said Rick, raising one eyebrow.

"I, uh," stuttered Daryl, heartbreak in his voice. "Name's Daryl."

"Beth Greene," said Beth beside him, her voice fighting to stay strong.

"Rick Grimes," said Rick, nodding courteously. "I'm guessin' you're here on police business?"

"Well," began Beth.

"Because I'm afraid I ain't workin' at the moment," said Rick, mild annoyance in his words. "My deputy, Officer Walsh, would call me if I needed to come down to the station for anythin' worthwhile."

"Actually, Sheriff, your deputy is the one who directed us here," explained Beth.

"Who was at the door, honey?" called a voice from inside the house. Beth took a rocky step forward at the sound.

"Some people Shane sent from the station," called back Rick. He turned back to Beth and Daryl.

"We need to talk to her," said Beth firmly, causing Daryl to cast a sideways glance her way.

"I'm sorry?" said Rick. "My wife?"

"Please, can we just see her?" asked Beth.

"Beth," muttered Daryl. She gave him a pointed look, the determination in her eyes telling him she wasn't about to leave that porch until she was absolutely sure every member of the Grimes family wouldn't look twice if they passed her on a street corner.

"What do they need?" said the voice that had called from inside. Lori came to the doorway, hands on her hips.

Beth had barely recovered from the initial shock of seeing the woman again before she was searching the brunette's face for any sign of her remembering. Within seconds, Beth's struggling flame of hope was once again stomped out. Lori was watching the two curious visitors with hardly any interest.

"Do you have any kids?" asked Beth, not giving up quite yet, struggling to rekindle her flame.

"Two," said Lori, smiling confusedly.

"Can we see them?" she asked, blinded by her determination to find someone who remembered.

Rick took a step forward. "Alright, what do you two want?" he asked, raising both hands to his hips.

"Not trouble, for one thing," said Daryl, also taking a step.

"Then I advise you to either state clearly what your business is or get off my porch," said Rick.

"We're sorry for botherin' you," muttered Daryl. "We'll go now." He began to turn around, but Beth's hand flew to his arm and pulled him back.

"No," she said firmly. "We just need to see your children. Just _eye contact_ , for goodness' sake!"

"Miss, I mean this in all seriousness, but are you high?" asked Rick in disbelief.

Beth took a breath. "No, I am not high," she said. "I just-,"

"Dad?" said Carl's voice from inside. He came to the doorway, causing both Beth and Daryl to smile in relief.

"Oh, hi," said Carl, noticing Beth and Daryl.

They watched him intently, both hanging onto this last shred of hope that King County had to offer. This hope, too, was quickly diminished. Carl only watched them confusedly.

"Thank you for your time," said Beth quietly.

"Wait, that's it? You're done?" asked Rick. "What the hell are you up to?"

Beth sighed as she and Daryl turned away from their friends, turned away from the one thing she had been striving towards throughout this whole journey. "Just tryin' to track someone down, is all," she said.

As she and Daryl made their way back down the front walk, defeated, both were holding back tears. The lingering promise of progress, of a step forward, had been completely culled from the air. A gloom had replaced it, but the rain was done falling.

"We should've known," said Beth as they drove. "We should've known Rick wouldn't remember. Why would he?"

Daryl was silent, chewing on his bottom lip inside his mouth.

"We were so...so dumb," said Beth angrily. "I don't even want to try and find anyone else."

"We'll sleep on it," said Daryl. He had been on the lookout for a hotel of some sort, and the bike's tires were now making a sharp turn into the parking lot of a Comfort Inn. The engine shut off as dusk was settling in.

"I was so naive," continued Beth. "The thing is, I knew it! I knew I was naive! I just kept telling myself that I wasn't _truly_ naive unless I was naive of my naivety!"

Daryl glanced at Beth with raised eyebrows as he readjusted his bag on his shoulder.

Beth blew air out of her nose. "Just because it's complicated doesn't mean it's not true," she muttered.

She was still reeling when the door to their hotel room had been shut. "I just… I feel _guilty_ ," she said.

Daryl looked up at her in his sullen haze. "Guilty 'bout what?" he asked.

"About wanting to go back," said Beth after a moment. "To go back to the way things were after the turn. No one in their right mind would want that, _should_ want that. I was given back my life, my dead parents came back, and yet all I wanted was to be...there. With the group."

"Well, I came to find Rick, too," said Daryl, trying to reassure her.

"But it's different for you," urged Beth. "The only family you had was Merle, and he's dead anyway. Your _true_ family was the group, so of course you'd want to get back to them. But with me… I shouldn't want that. Daryl… what's wrong with me?" Her eyes were fixated on a point in the carpet as she sat down on the edge of the bed.

Daryl sat beside her. "There ain't nothin' wrong with you," he muttered.

"But there is," said Beth. "I mean, of course seein' my family again, all back to normal, that was...that was incredible. But I couldn't shake the feelin' that I belonged somewhere else. It was like I didn't even feel happy, some days I just felt a little less sad than others." Tears ran down her cheeks now, causing her skin to glisten in the hotel room light.

Daryl sat uncomfortably beside her, supporting his body with his hands like pillars behind him. "You'd been through a lot since you'd been home with your family," he said. "You'd changed. That ain't nothin' to feel bad about."

Beth watched her fingers as she fiddled with them in her lap. "Did I change so much that I don't even love my family anymore?" she asked.

"You can still love your family and want to be somewhere else," said Daryl.

"Even if that somewhere is a place where your family isn't even alive?" challenged Beth.

Daryl looked away. "Look, I'm sorry Rick not rememberin' is makin' you feel this way," he began.

Beth shut her eyes. "Him not rememberin' only pushed me over the edge. These feelings have been stewin' for months."

"Well...we can always try to find the others," suggested Daryl. "Glenn, I guess he'd still be in Atlanta."

Beth sighed. "But I don't know if I want to," she said. "I shouldn't want to."

Daryl turned to her now, looking at her with a new determination in his gaze and a new strength in his words. "Beth, stop. I know you're feelin' guilty and confused, and hell, so am I, but this ain't you. What happened to that positive, optimistic Beth, who was always so full a' hope? Don't let somethin' like this beat you down. You're stronger than that."

Beth looked him in the eye. "I know I shouldn't, but I've kept these thoughts, this shame, bottled up for so long…" she said slowly.

Daryl cleared his throat. "I know how it feels to...to keep things in," he said. "And when it finally all comes out it can be...overwhelmin'."

Beth nodded. "It's just frustratin'," she said. "I don't know what I want anymore, Daryl."

Daryl watched her intently through his wispy bangs. Her eyes were an even more intense shade of blue due to her tears, and her blonde hair was falling against her wet cheeks in perfect waves. She was young, too young, but she spoke the truth about keeping feelings bottled up. Before he knew it, dangerous words were slipping out of his closed lips, tumbling over his tongue. "I do."


	13. Tired

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

The moment had intoxicated Daryl; he was leaning in towards Beth in the sudden drunken haze that had overtaken him. It wasn't a quick movement, but a slow closing of the space between them. His hands had shifted closer to her legs, but still rested a good distance away. His eyelids were heavy as Beth's face grew closer in his vision. He didn't know what his intentions were. All he knew was Beth, and her eyes, her hair, her voice, her words.

Then he stopped. His sense came rushing back to him. Beth was watching him with wide eyes, her neck bent upwards towards him. Quickly, she looked away, and he followed suit.

The hotel room became unbearably quiet. The seconds ticked away mercilessly, each seeming longer than the one before. The two sat, drowning in the silence, pondering every single what-if of the sudden moment that had just passed. Both minds were reeling, but both bodies sat rigidly still.

"There's a bar next door," mumbled Daryl finally. "You could probably use a drink after uh, the whole thing with Rick. We both could."

"Daryl, I'm not old enough to drink," said Beth, forcing out a nervous laugh.

Daryl really appreciated that reminder of her youth.

"But, I'll gladly accompany you there," added Beth quietly.

Both were thankful to leave behind that room and the discomfort that still lingered on the bedspread. Daryl sauntered quickly down the hall, hoping that with every step Beth would forget what he had just tried to do.

Beth followed behind him, not sure how to feel. She was sure the heat on her cheeks had evaporated any remnants of her tears. There seemed to be a stormy ocean in the pit of her stomach, with its churning waves rocking incessantly back and forth. The emotions from her brief breakdown were still rolling in and out, but now her nervous, jittery excitement swirled in with the sea, bringing it to a boil and causing everything to bubble up and crash together.

Yes, both were eager to leave behind that hotel room, but oh, how both _truly_ wanted to finish what had just been started. But neither would let themselves fully put that thought together.

The street was quiet but for muffled music from the bar and the distant hum of voices and laughter. The streetlamps were just coming on, but without their fixated light the evening sun would have been sufficient in illuminating the street. A single group of crepuscular rays of said sunlight shot through the still persistent grey gloom of clouds. Despite it all, neither Beth nor Daryl thought much of any of their surroundings. They were wholly focused on their reeling insides.

The bar wasn't loud or smoky - both of these things would have been welcome distractions for Beth and Daryl. Instead, the bar was relatively empty, aside from a few stragglers in booths and one man sitting at the bar itself. A stage was set up for a live musician, but only the radio played over the bar's audio system. The lights were dimmed, but the light from the sunset filtered in through the blinds on the front windows, sending striped designs across the faux-leather cushioned chairs and concrete floor.

Beth went ahead of Daryl to the main bar, sliding onto a bar stool and fixing her gaze on the television above showing a football game. She watched with forced intent as over and over again, a player found the ball in his hands, ran with it with such hope, until he was tackled by his opponents and came tumbling onto the turf in a heap. She found the sport somewhat frustrating; every time something began, it seemed to be ended so quickly, just as things were headed in the right direction. Then again, she had never taken the time to fully understand the rules of the game.

Daryl sat, although reluctantly, beside her, his spine stiff and throat tight. He wanted to switch bodies with someone just so he could beat himself up, despite already doing so mentally. _What had he been thinking?_ It was like a fog had come over him, a smoky haze in which the one word that had been being whispered into his ears for so long was then suddenly being shouted. BETH BETH BETH. It was as if the wall around him, which had been growing weaker and weaker as Beth became closer and closer, had collapsed as suddenly as the snap of fingers, leaving him defenseless in his struggle against his desires.

"Can I get you guys anything?" said the bartender, looking up at them under his thick eyebrows which seemed to weigh down his drooping skin.

"Just a beer," muttered Daryl.

Beth threw him a concerned look. "Wait, do we have enough for this?" she asked quietly.

Daryl barely glanced towards her. "Enough what?"

"Money, Daryl," she said. "We've got to save what we have for hotels and meals."

"Never mind on that beer," said Daryl to the bartender.

The bartender chuckled. "Still tryin' to tame the shrew, eh?" he said to Daryl, turning away from Beth as though she wasn't even there.

Daryl's uncomfortable demeanor was immediately replaced with strength as he rose up, his jaw clamped down to the point where it began to jut out. He brought his fists up to rest on the bar. "I ain't got no shrew 'round here to tame," he said. "But I think there are others 'round here that could use some work." His eyes drove into the bartender like cold blades.

The bartender gave a dismissive cough. "Try not to hang around too long if you ain't gonna buy anything," he said, his voice lacking its previous strength and dominant tone.

Beth smiled at Daryl from under her bangs as they fell down off her forehead and over her eyes. He wasn't looking.

The sweetness of his gesture rendered Beth momentarily defenseless. She let herself fully feel the need for Daryl to try again what he had tried at the hotel. She, of course, treated this feeling like a spark once she returned to her usual defensive state, and frantically tried to stomp it out. However, what she didn't want to admit to herself was that these feelings, these sparks, had become a wildfire that she was still futilely trying to smother.

They both soaked in their own silence, listening only to the chopped up conversations of the other patrons and the music from the speakers. Both were so consumed with their efforts to not be awkward that neither realized the absurdity of the situation. Rushing down to a bar together to escape an uncomfortable moment only to sit, not drinking anything, in an even more painful silence.

Beth watched the television screen again. One of the players had the football now, and was struggling to dodge his opponents as they came at him from all directions. As several closed in around him, just nearly grabbing onto him, he almost ducked out of their grasp. However, in what Beth thought a sudden but somewhat inevitable movement, the player fell to the ground in a heap with his competitors, finally giving into their relentless chase.

Daryl fought the urge to watch Beth. He wanted nothing more than to stare at her blonde wisps of hair falling in spiraling curls right along her little ears. But he was afraid that he would be overcome again like he had been just moments ago. He was terrified, in fact. He'd spent oh-too-long fighting his immoral thoughts, and in a moment, just a single moment, he had crumbled, falling victim to Beth and her blue eyes.

Beth and Daryl were stuck in an endless game with rules that no one would ever quite be able to follow, not even the two participants themselves.

They sat at the bar in the same silence they had entered in for nearly an hour. How they were ever going to get back up to the hotel room to get some sleep, neither knew. The day had drained them.

The last thing they wanted to see was a certain black van parking right outside the bar.

It seemed to come out of nowhere as it glided up to the curb; it was a fluid motion, one that seemed almost callously cool to the torture it was bringing upon Beth and Daryl. It sat still, with windows too tinted to see any movement on the inside of the cabin.

Beth and Daryl had noticed it almost immediately. Beth let out a short, exasperated sob. Daryl was ready to blow the van up, he was so sick of it.

"Daryl, when they come in here…" began Beth. "Let's just go with them."

"Huh?" said Daryl, twisting towards her. "Ain't no way I'm goin' with people who've been stalkin' and shootin' at us."

"What else are we gonna do? Go home?" said Beth. "I just want to see what they want. We've ran from them for long enough."

For a moment, Daryl studied her, and she studied him. Their eyes just barely flicked as each examined the other, but still their gazes were locked.

"Fine," Daryl said, giving in just as the bar door opened and briefly filled the room with the sounds of the street.

Just three members of the pursuing group entered, their heavy footfalls skidding on the concrete floor. Both Beth and Daryl turned towards them on their stools. Daryl began to stand, but Beth's hand fell softly on his shoulder, willing him back down. She stood and approached the group with the same determined look in her eye that Daryl admired, but now feared after seeing it in that hospital wing he loathed. A small absurd part of him waited tensely for a gunshot as he watched her pass by with that familiar confident countenance.

"We just want to know what you want," Beth said to the man standing at the front of the group.

"We need you to come with us," he said, glancing quickly at the other patrons in the bar whose attention was now being drawn to the scene.

"Are you plannin' on tellin' us what for?" asked Beth. "Or were you just gonna shoot at us until we decided to hop in your creepy van?" Her voice faltered for a moment, but she held her gaze.

"It's confidential," stated the man tersely.

Beth held his gaze as a few seconds ticked by. Exhaling, she finally said, "Okay."

"Okay?" asked the man.

"Just take us," she said exasperatedly. "We're tired." She looked at him almost pleadingly.

"Well, come on," said the man hesitatingly, confused at the sudden turn of attitude.

The world seemed to move in slow motion as Beth and Daryl left the bar with their former hunters, and yet Beth felt that she had blinked and was placed in the back of the van. She watched the other members of the group exit the hotel with her and Daryl's bags, tossing them into the back with them. Daryl sat beside her, knee bobbing up and down nervously.

"This car kinda smells weird," said Beth quietly to him, trying to ease his nerves with some form of humor, some lightheartedness.

Daryl smirked at her with a furrowed brow, giving her a slight shake of his head. His knee sat still.

After all of their things, including Daryl's bike, had been loaded up, they left King County behind them. After traveling all this way to get there, Beth and Daryl were being taken away as swiftly as run-away animals.

Beth felt her eyelids close as the trees along the road grew thicker. She drifted off, half wondering if she would wake to find even this a dream.

"Hey, I think she might be waking up."

"Maybe she's just havin' a nightmare."

"No, look, her eyes are openin' up."

Beth blinked. She lifted her cheek up off the fabric beneath her, righting her tilted vision. Two women sat before her on a bed, each watching her with sympathetic smiles.

"Hey," said one with auburn hair and pale skin. Her voice was deep. "What's your name? No one told us."

Beth stared back at them. She didn't even think to answer the woman's question. "Where's Daryl?" she asked.

"Daryl who?" replied the other woman with dark skin and a thick watch around her wrist.

"The man…" Beth realized the women were wearing blue scrubs, and she glanced down at herself. She was wearing the same thing. She screamed.

The two women jumped up. "Help her!" cried the one with auburn hair. "Get Pearson!"

The dark-skinned woman hurried out of the room, leaving the sobbing Beth alone with the other.

"I'm Piper," said the other woman, keeping her distance from the blonde.

Beth was unresponsive. She threw her head into her hands, shaking and crying. She'd lost him again. She was going to die again.

The dark-skinned woman hurried back into the room with a concerned man.

"We were just introducing ourselves and she started screaming and crying," she said. Piper nodded.

The man kneeled down in front of Beth. "Hey, now, it's alright, no one's trying to hurt you," he said.

"Where is he?" asked Beth, struggling to choke down her tears and get the information she needed. "Where?"

"You must mean Mr. Dixon," said the man. "Let me go see if he's ready to come see you."

Beth let out a shaky breath. "Is he okay?" she asked.

The man turned back towards her. "Why wouldn't he be?" He left the room. The two women stayed behind.

"Listen, I'm Jane," said the dark-skinned woman. "I'm sorry you're so upset, I just wish there was something we could do."

"I know you've probably been through a lot," said Piper. "We're the only ones who seem to remember how bad things were for everybody."

Beth's head flew up, but before she could push Piper to go on, the door flung open again.

Daryl barged in, wearing the same blue scrubs as Beth. The man who had just left stumbled in behind him, failing to keep things under control.

"You alright?" demanded Daryl, falling to his knees beside the bed Beth sat on, his hands running all over her hair, face, and arms.

Beth's face scrunched up in tears as she nodded. "You?"

"You know I am," said Daryl. He turned his head towards the man, keeping his hands on Beth. "Did you not even bother to tell her what's goin' on?"

"She just started screaming," said Jane.

"She took one look at herself and just lost it," said Piper.

Daryl glanced at her scrubs and his eyes welled with knowing tears. "It's alright," he said to Beth.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"They explained it to me while you were sleepin' on the way," said Daryl. "It's some research facility. Listen, Beth, all the people here remember, 'cept for the guards and scientists and all. Just the people they're studyin'. They just want our help."

"You trust them?" asked Beth.

Daryl smiled at her. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I do."

"How long have I been asleep?" asked Beth.

"We only got here 'bout an hour ago," said Daryl.

Beth nodded. The air in the room was cold, crisp. The others standing watched her and Daryl closely. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You're, um, welcome to explore," said the man. "Oh, and I'm Pearson, by the way. Head agent of this research operation."

Beth looked up from her embrace with Daryl. She managed a small smile. "I'm Beth Greene," she said.

Pearson smiled. "We know." He left the room.

"Wanna look around or just stay here?" asked Daryl, his hands still on her, as her arms stayed tight around his neck.

"Can we stay, for a bit?" she said. He nodded.

"We'll let you guys talk," said Jane. She left, pulling Piper along with her.

"They seem… close," murmured Piper to Jane before the door was fully shut.

Beth pulled Daryl closer. "I'm sorry for screamin' like that," she said into the crook of his neck.

"You were scared, that's alright," he replied. "But I think we're safe here."

"Maybe they'll have answers," said Beth.

"Yeah, maybe they will," said Daryl. He pulled his head out of their hug, running his hand along her hair once more, touching her hesitatingly as if she were delicate and fragile. "Hey, listen, I had some time to think it over, 'bout the hotel," he began.

Beth gave a small smile. Now wasn't the time to deal with any of that. "Don't worry about it," she said quickly. "I think I'd like to go have a look around."

A/N: Thank you all so much for your interest in this story! The next update may be a little longer than usual, but nothing extreme. Thanks again!


	14. Catching Up

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

Daryl nodded, standing up with Beth. "Well, uh, I guess this is your room," he said, glancing around the tiny bedroom.

"And you?" asked Beth.

"I got a room, too, across the way," he said. "A roommate, too."

They were quiet for a moment, both glancing around at their surroundings. He reached for her elbow. Together, they emerged into the hallway. It was carpeted and lined with doors identical to the one they had just come from. Daryl led them down the hall until they heard voices growing louder.

"How many others are here?" asked Beth.

"No more'n twenty," said Daryl. "This is only the Georgia branch. At least that's what that Pearson guy told me before you woke up. And that's about all he told me."

The hallway blossomed into a commons area, where scattered groups of people sat at circular school cafeteria-style tables. The walls were the same gray as they appeared to be throughout the entire building, a dreary color that seemed to dull even the fluorescent lights.

Piper and Jane sat at a table close to Beth and Daryl, watching them with concern. A man was with them; he couldn't be older than 55. He smiled kindly, if not sympathetically, at Beth and Daryl. They must have looked so sheepish, looking on at this strange, dystopian cafeteria with their battered hair and hastily fit scrubs, standing close together as though anything might tear them apart.

"I'm Brian," said the man, his gentle voice matching his exterior. He stood from his seat and walked to them. "I highly doubt they explained much to you two." There was a twinkle in his eye.

"They did to me, sorta," mumbled Daryl. "But they scared the livin' daylights outta her." He gestured towards Beth. "'Name's Daryl, by the way."

"I'm Beth," said Beth, trying to smile at the man. She wanted him to know that she really did mean to be nice and outgoing, but she had just been so overwhelmed in such a short amount of time.

"And they told you that we all remember, right?" asked Brian.

Beth and Daryl nodded. "We don't know any details," said Beth.

"Why don't you sit down with us," said Brian, nodding his head towards Piper and Jane. "We'll catch you up."

The pair followed Brian to the table. Jane smiled gently at Beth, and Piper watched her carefully.

Beth took a moment to look more closely at the two girls. Jane was taller, with dark skin, but darker hair. Her eyes were extremely gentle, but full of a knowing intelligence. She wore stud earrings with her blue scrubs. Piper's red hair fell in loose curls at her shoulders. She had big, green eyes which watched everything around her very intensely. Her nose was scrunched towards her face.

"I know you've all briefly met," said Brian. "Jane, why don't you start."

Jane cleared her throat, tucking a pair of her dark hair behind her ear. "Well, my name is Jane Carlyle. I grew up in Atlanta. I was a florist, just about to enter my first year of law school. My parents, they were florists, too. They caught the fever early. When things started to get really, really horrible, I got out of the city with two brothers that I met in a Walgreens that got overrun as I was trying to leave, you know, getting some last minute supplies. I was with them for a long while. Terry and Jared were their names. Terry, the oldest, he got bit eventually. Jared and I were still out there when this second turn happened. I woke up in my apartment like nothing ever happened."  
"And everyone else, they didn't remember, right?" asked Beth.

"Right," said Jane. She paused. "Brian, why don't you go next."

Brian nodded, still smiling gently. The tanned skin on his face crinkled around the corners of his mouth as his lips turned inwards and the corners raised. "I'm Brian Waltman, from Loveland, Colorado. I'd moved to Atlanta about four months before the turn, with my wife, Helen," he began. "Back in Loveland, I taught high school American history, but I bartended on the side. I was a bouncer for a little bit. A cab driver, too. I was a secretary in a dentist's office when I first started teaching. My first job, though, now that was as a cobbler's assistant, medieval apprenticeship style. Wait, wait, no, I suppose my true first job was as a cave tour guide."

Piper had thrown her face into her heads, laughing. Jane chuckled. Beth was smiling brightly.

"Damn," said Daryl. "You've been around."

Brian chuckled. "Well, I like to experiment," he said. "Experimenting equals experiencing, in my mind."

"So, what brought you to Atlanta?" asked Beth.

"Why don't I go," interrupted Piper, glancing at Brian. The redhead was leaned onto the table, her arms crossed. "I'm Piper Stone. I'm from Massachusetts, a town called Pittsfield, but I moved to Georgia about two months before the turn. I, uh, worked as a receptionist. At a flooring company. I was in my first year at a community college, getting my associate's degree to become a dental hygienist. Those guys make a whole lotta dough for two years of school, you know. Anyways, that's aside from the point. I lived in Atlanta with my boyfriend, who, uh, is right over there." She gestured across the cafeteria to a table where four large men sat. "Emerson!" called Piper. "Come meet the newcomers."

One man lifted up his blond head, standing from behind another man. He sauntered over, and Beth immediately recognized him.

The man from the hospital. He'd been dragged away like a mental patient, and Beth had worried she'd end up wherever he was going. Here she was.

"Hey," he said, his voice deep and raspy. "I'm Emerson." He looked at Daryl. "We already met."

Daryl nodded, then looked at Beth. "His friend over there's my roommate," he explained.

Beth looked over to Emerson's table. Daryl motioned to a larger man with hunched over shoulders, rough skin, and long, dirty blond hair that somehow looked as though it would crunch if you touched it.

"Yeah, Emerson and I started dating in our junior of high school, back in Pittsfield," explained Piper. "And, here we are, still together!" she said. She smiled up faintly at the man, who hardly watched her with dark circles under his eyes.

"I'm goin' back over to Maverick," he said. He turned and walked away.

"He's a man of few words," said Piper.

Brian cleared his throat. "Well, that's the summary on the inside of our covers. What're you guys'?"

Beth and Daryl, taking turns speaking, explained, in a very much abridged version, the backstory of each of them.

"So you two have really been through a lot together," said Jane, astonishment in her voice.

They nodded. "I'm just... _man_ , I'm glad to meet some people who remember, too," said Beth. She almost wanted to cry again.

Brian smiled. "Well, we're glad to have you here!" he said. He was the kind of man whose words one immediately could trust in. "This place looks pretty dull, I know. But, we've got some alright amenities. Just down the hall over there is a library."

"Really?" asked Beth. "What exactly is this place?"

"It's a disease research center called WCRF, or World Crisis Relief Facility." said Jane. "It's like the CDC, but much more private. It was started up before the turn, and now it's functioning as a research center of the turn itself. Since all around the world a similar story was being told by so many people, of this horrific zombie apocalypse, the WCRF took up an undercover effort to run tests on these people, to see what on earth had happened."

"So here we are," said Piper.

"How th' hell did they know to find us, then?" asked Daryl.

The others glanced at each other. "We couldn't tell you that," said Brian. "If I were you, I'd talk to Pearson, or Idan."

"Who's Idan?" asked Daryl.

"One of us," said Piper. "Someone who remembers and was brought in for testing, I mean. The thing is, he was in a research facility in Israel during the turn, so now he's pretty high up with the other scientists around here. He really knows what he's doing."

Beth took a moment and looked around at the people surrounding her. Daryl to her left, Brian, Jane, and Piper before her. There had been so many answers thrown at her all at once. She was left quite speechless, quite unsure of what to do next. A part of her was happy with these explanations. Another part wished she and Daryl were sitting around Rick's dining room table, reminiscing with him and formulating a plan of their own for finding the others.

They ate their nighttime meal with Brian, Jane, and Piper. The meal was served on school trays, and within the squares was turkey with a thin gravy, strangely bright white mashed potatoes, and a pile of green beans in a watery pool. The group ate everything right up, quite happily.

"You gonna sleep okay tonight?" asked Daryl as he walked with Beth back to her room.

"Surely," replied Beth. "I've slept on a muddy forest floor multiple times."

"You got a point there," he said. "I'm just across the cafeteria and down the hall to the left, if you need me."

Beth smiled. "I know," she said. "And I'm right down here, you know, if you need me."

His tired eyes watched her for a moment. And she finally let herself have the thought: She wanted nothing more than to kiss him right then and there.

"Hey, roomie," said Piper as she came down the hall. "I don't know about you, but I'm ready to turn in." She moved around the pair and flipped on the light in the bedroom.

"Goodnight," said Beth to Daryl.

"Yeah, 'night," said Daryl in reply.

Beth shut the bedroom door behind her. Piper had turned off the overhead light, and let the lamp on the nightstand in between the beds light the room. Both beds were turned down, their pale blue sheets coming to a folded point towards one side of the mattress. Beth slipped off the converse she was wearing.

"Do we sleep in our scrubs?" she asked.

Piper stood from the bed she sat on. "No, no, there're pajamas in the wardrobe," she said. She walked to the wardrobe to the left of the door, opening it and handing Beth a pair of striped shorts with a matching button-down shirt. She had a set for herself. "You can always change in the bathroom across the hall, if you want." She was already pulling off her shirt.

Beth undressed, too, and pulled on the pajamas. The sheets were cold once she huddled beneath them.

Piper turned onto her back, arm across her forehead as she stared up at the ceiling. "So, you and Daryl. You guys a thing?"

Beth laughed softly. "No," she said. "Not really."

Piper shifted her head to glance at Beth from under her forearm. "Not _really_?" she repeated, smiling. "Hm." She was quiet again before she said, "He looks at you like you're his life, you know."

Beth tried not to turn towards Piper too quickly. "What do you mean?"

"He watches you all the time, like he's gotta protect you, but like he's captivated at the same time," said Piper. "It's heartwarming, especially after knowing what all you two've been through together."

"Well, that's...that's interesting to hear," said Beth. What an understatement. "I suppose you'd know what those sort of looks are like, with Emerson and all."

Piper was quiet. "Yeah," she agreed.

Beth pressed her head into the pillow, which was gradually growing warmer, and looked at the room. This was nice. Piper was nice. Brian was nice. Jane was nice. This place had answers. The lamplit bedroom was cozy and warm.

"Hey, I'm gonna turn off the lamp," said Piper. "I hope you sleep alright tonight. I remember my first night here; it was all such a whirlwind."

Beth smiled. "Thanks. Goodnight."

The darkness was total aside from a dim line of light at the bottom of the door. Piper shifted under her sheets. A few far off voices could be heard, probably in the cafeteria. Someone walked by the door, the shadows of their feet momentarily muddling the line of light. Beth's eyes adjusted, and she could barely see the hazy outlines of Piper's bed, the wardrobe, and the nightstand.

"Hey, I wanted to ask," said Piper's voice after several minutes. "What made you cry like that earlier? I mean, I understand, I guess. I just don't see you as the crying type after hearing your story."

"Well, it's just... you know the hospital I was taken to? The one I mentioned with Brian and Jane?" said Beth into the darkness. "When I saw the scrubs, I thought, for just a moment, that I was back there. That I was separated from Daryl again."

They fell silent. Piper's breathing steadied. Despite the comfort Beth felt, she wished that steady breathing belonged to Daryl.


	15. Questions

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

"Hey there, Beth," said the man called Pearson. He sat in a burgundy-cushioned behind the desk in the little room that Beth had been led into. His legs were crossed, and he watched her. His face was kind enough.

"Take a seat."

Beth carefully slid into the chair before the desk. She rested her hands beside her thighs. The cushion on her chair scratched her palms.

"Did you sleep well?" asked Pearson.

She tried to smile despite her nerves. She had no idea what to expect. "Just fine, thank you."

Pearson returned the smile, though his was more sympathetic. "I know this has all been very fast, and probably frightening. You and Mr. Dixon have really been so cooperative," he said. He added, "Since you arrived."

Beth nodded.

"I know the others, probably mostly Brian, tried to explain what this place is," said Pearson. "Do you have a pretty good idea?"

Beth nodded again. "A research center?" she asked. "People all around the world were telling the same story of some sort of apocalypse, so centers like this one opened up to research those people and their stories. Try and piece it all together."

"Yep," said Pearson. "That's about it. Before this place opened up, I used to work at the CDC in Atlanta. They called me over here to specialize in this 'top secret case.'" He paused. "I just want to get started with questions today. Try and figure out what _your_ story is. This 'zombie apocalypse,' as many have described it...what's your side of it all, you know?"

"Well, I started off on my farm," Beth began. And she went from there.

"And you knew any of the others, aside from your family, before 'the turn?'"

"No."

"This prison, were there many others there when you say your group arrived?"

"No, aside from the ones I described."

"This Governor you speak of, had you heard of him before 'the turn?'"

"No."

Questions like these peppered the conversation. With every answer, Pearson would nod, chewing on his bottom lip, and write something on his clipboard. Beth would continue on.

It was nearly an hour and a half later when Pearson stopped her, just when she was about to tell of the Governor's destruction of the prison. "We've been at this for a while," he said. "We'll continue on tomorrow. We're still questioning the others, of course. Gathering data. I have to make time for them." He stood, smiling. "Thank you very much, Beth. This will all be so helpful."

She stood and returned the man's smile. "Yes, of course," she replied. She left the little room, emerging into a carpeted hall. She began to try to navigate her way back to the cafeteria.

"Hey, you're one of them newcomers, right?" said a gruff voice behind her as she turned down what she was fairly sure was the wrong hall.

She turned to see Daryl's roommate coming towards her. "Yes," she said. "And your name's Maverick?"

He nodded as he stopped before her. He was a large man, although not fat in any way. He was pure muscle. His scraggly beard matched his hair, which touched his broad shoulders. These burly shoulders seemed to set the girth of his torso all the way down. Tattoos patterned all of the skin on his arms. "I'm guessin' you were just in there for questioning." He gestured with his head in the direction Beth had been walking from.

"Yes, that was my first session, I guess," she said. "Kinda weird, tellin' the whole story of the past few years of my life."

"Yeah, you get used to it," he said. "I've been here 'bout a month. It's pretty much on a daily basis, those sessions. Sometimes with Pearson, sometimes with Joanna."

"Joanna?" Beth asked.

"Just another official in a uniform," said Maverick.

She smiled and nodded. "Would you mind, uh, showing me where the cafeteria is?"

Without a word, he began walking. Beth assumed she should follow. His heavy footfalls reminded her of someone else.

Daryl stood when she emerged into the cafeteria with Maverick. She went to him, and noticed his hand twitch as if to reach out to her. He kept it at his side.

"How'd it go?" he asked, his eyes unmoving from her face.

"Fine, I think," said Beth. "I got to telling the part just before my dad, you know…" Even though her dad was back, alive and well, she still couldn't fully let herself think of the image of his severed head without breaking down internally.

Daryl nodded, not really wanting her to go on for her sake. "Maverick," he said, nodding cordially at the man.

"Hey," said Maverick. His eyes immediately shifted to something behind Daryl. Both Beth and Daryl followed his gaze to see Emerson approaching the trio.

"Well, Maverick, you socializin'?" he asked before laughing.

Beth tried to offer up a laugh as well, but she noticed Piper sitting across the cafeteria at a table by herself, and she couldn't bring herself to chuckle at the man who seemed to be ignoring the woman. "How's Piper?" she finally asked.

Emerson paused. "Fine?" he said, almost incredulously. He looked back at Maverick. "You got an interrogation today?"

Maverick nodded. "Later, I think. You better get to your session," he said. "Beth here just finished with Pearson."

"Alright, alright, Mav," said Emerson, shaking his head at Beth and Daryl with wide eyes and a disbelieving smile. He left down the hall Beth and Maverick had come from.

Beth watched Maverick and realized that he was unphased by any of Emerson's somewhat rude and superior in tone comments or expressions. He turned towards them both. "You two hungry?"

"I could eat," said Daryl. "Are there set meal times, or…?"

"10-2 is lunch, if you consider that set. It's pretty much free reign," said Maverick.

The three went across the cafeteria to a set of open double doors. Behind a counter sat open crock pots, similar to that of the antique store where Beth and Daryl had run from the very people now feeding them. Maverick rounded the counter, glancing over the steaming edges of the pots. "Chili in this second one. Other two have some sort of stew, or something." He reached for the ladle of the second pot, grabbing a styrofoam bowl from a stack that had been set to the side.

"Y'want chili?" asked Daryl, glancing at Beth and grabbing onto the ladle as it began to slide along the pot's rim once let go from Maverick's grip.

Beth nodded, watching as Daryl very carefully ladled out a helping into a bowl for her. He held the flimsy bowl delicately in one hand as it filled.

"Thanks," she said, smiling up at the man as he handed her the bowl.

He filled a bowl for himself, and they followed Maverick back into the cafeteria. Beth glanced over at the table Piper had been sitting at before, but her seat was now vacant. There was no sign of Brian or Jane, either. She sat beside Daryl, across from Maverick.

"Thanks for lettin' us join you for lunch," she said, dipping her spoon into a cluster of ground beef and kidney beans. Daryl was busily eating beside her.

"Sure," said Maverick. He took a bite, and quickly swallowed.

"Where're y'from?" grunted Daryl in a short pause between spoonfuls.

"Out in the country of King County," said Maverick. "I was a construction worker."

Salt in the wound, thought Beth. "D'you miss it, being a construction worker?" she asked.

Maverick paused, then nodded. "Yeah, a little, I guess," he said. "I mean, before the turn I lived in a nice house across from my mama's. I'd get up every mornin' and go to work. Come home and help my mama fix us somethin' for supper. It was good."

Beth smiled. "I guess your mom doesn't know where you are, what with this being a top secret program and all."

Maverick paused again. "Yeah," he said, looking down at his bowl. "No one's family knows. I had to tell her I was goin' away on construction business. I really don't know what the hell that's supposed to mean, but she got pretty excited about it. All proud of her son." He chuckled. "I might just never tell her the truth."

"I guess it'd be difficult to try and explain what this place is to our families, given that we even get the chance to. Maybe if all this secrecy blows over," said Beth.

"I don't know how I could ever explain to her all of this. That I'd, y'know...watched her die... like I did. And watched her come back, and I had to…" Maverick said, his words jumbling together.

"We've all done bad things," said Daryl. "It's alright."

Maverick nodded. "You two, you've known each other for a while, right?" He changed the subject.

"Yeah," said Daryl. "What 'bout you'n Emerson? Did you know him n' Piper before all this?"

"Nah, we all met here," he said before pausing. "Emerson, he's a guy who really knows what he's doin'."

"Are he and Piper still close?" asked Beth.

Maverick glanced towards the hall that Emerson had gone down. "Of course," he said after a moment.

Beth watched him carefully. She knew Daryl was doing the same beside her.

Maverick was visibly changed. "Well, I better go," he said, taking his nearly empty chili bowl with him as he stood.

"Oh, well, thanks again for eatin' with us," said Beth, her words somewhat frantic, confused, as the man left.

"He sure left in a hurry," muttered Daryl after it was just them at the table.

"Emerson has a weird hold over him," said Beth. " _And_ over Piper."

"Yeah, what's so great about him?" grunted Daryl, scraping his last spoonful from the bowl.

Beth glanced over at him as he shoved the last bite in his mouth, and she scrunched her nose. "That chili isn't goin' anywhere, you know." She laughed.

Daryl smirked. "I'd say it's goin' somewhere now," he said, earning an enthusiastic, "GROSS!" and laugh from Beth.

Once they had thrown away their empty styrofoam bowls and spoons, Beth said, "I wish we knew where Brian and Jane are."

"D'you wanna find 'em?" asked Daryl, glancing over at her through his bangs.

"I mean...we could probably find out some more information from them," said Beth. "Just about this place, and where they were before."

Daryl looked down at his fingers fiddling with the side of the counter in the kitchen, his feet shifting beside the trash can. "Or we could just find somethin' to do, maybe, just us."

"Oh," said Beth. "Yeah, yeah, we can do that."

Together, they walked quietly through the halls. Daryl's clambering stride overshadowed Beth's gentler walk, yet somehow they matched each other, even aside from their blue scrubs. And Beth glanced up at his face, and she could see their surroundings change. The farmhouse. A car's interior. The prison. A scrubby forest. The porch. The funeral home. His face was a still point amongst all of this, a point of constancy which remained the same. He hadn't been there since her beginning, but in a way, he'd been there since _the_ beginning. The beginning of what seemed to matter.

"How long do you think they'll keep us here?" asked Beth.

"If we're here for _too_ long, we'll find a way to call your parents or somethin'," he said. "I know you've texted 'em, or whatever, a few times, but if we end up stayin' past summer, we'll come up with another excuse to keep you here."

"What if we don't want to stay that long, though?" asked Beth.

"I guess there's only so much research these people can do," replied Daryl. "We'll tell 'em what we know, let 'em figure out what they can. Then we'll leave."

Beth was quiet. "I'm glad you remembered," she said. "I mean, I'm glad it was you."

"Yeah," said Daryl, his voice a breathy laugh. "I'm glad it was you, too."

She wanted to grab his hand. She wanted to grab him by the neck of his scrubs and bury her face into his chest. _Goodness_ , it was nice to admit that to herself. And she was close to acting on this thought when they were interrupted.

"Hey," said a kind voice. Brian rounded a corner of the carpeted hall and approached them, a gentle smile on his face. "Idan's anxious to meet you two."


	16. Opposite Ends

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

There was a hallway around a concealed corner. This one was shorter than the others, and darker. A frosted glass wall with a similarly frosted glass door met Beth and Daryl as they followed Brian, and behind it could be seen a small room lit with warm lamplight.

"Idan works in here," said Brian. "He's worked his way up to his own office, I suppose." He knocked on the door. "Idan, the newcomers are out here."

There was a moment of silence, and then the door opened. A slender young man with a thin beard of black hairs peppering his dark chin stood before them. He smiled. "Hello," he said, a slight accent to his words. "I'm Idan." He held out his hand.

Daryl shook it. "Daryl," he said.

Beth shook the man's hand next, smiling. "Beth," she said.

"It's very nice to meet you both," said Idan. "Please, come in. I've heard you two have a very compelling story."

Beth and Daryl followed Idan into the small office space, with Brian following behind. Brian closed the door, and Beth glanced around herself at the cluttered desk and tabletops, every inch of space seeming to be piled with papers, charts, and books.

Idan noticed her gaze. "Most of this mess is research I had built up prior to the Reversion; that's what I like to call this new, secondary return to the 'real' world, in which few remember the first turn," he said. "I lost all of my work when my life went back to how it normally would be, but I've been working to replenish the lost data."

"Piper mentioned that you worked in a research facility in Israel," said Daryl, plopping himself down in one of the chairs after moving a stack of files.

Idan nodded, leaning against his main desk. "I had worked there as a geneticist before the turn, and happened to be working a double shift the day we went on lockdown. We were already somewhat secure, being within the West Bank barrier, but after that day, I remained inside the research facility. We had communication with many other research centers across the world, but, naturally, many of them fell as time went on. There was one, however, in Atlanta, which had impressive research before our communication was lost. It was one day, as I was performing a test on a large rain water sample, that I decided I would attempt to travel to Atlanta and conduct further research. That was the exact moment I woke up in my house in Palestine. Despite my deep confusion, I flew to Georgia the next day. Contacted the CDC. I ended up here."

Beth and Daryl were quiet for a moment. "This research… you think it could save us?" asked Daryl.

"Well, I don't think I have been able to figure out anything regarding the stopping of the virus. However, it seems the world has somehow stopped that on its own. The virus has simply vanished, but with it, so has the vast majority of its memory. My main priority now is to find the reasoning behind the Reversion. And why only a select few seem to remember the years of the turn," explained Idan.

"And you have a lot of data on that?" asked Beth. "Do you think you'll be able to replenish the lost memories of...you know, most everyone?"

Idan gave a cough. "Not exactly. I've collected the stories of the survivors here, and I've contacted the other facilities like this one across the planet. Gathered the stories of the survivors in those places, as well. I don't solely focus on the accounts, however. It is the numbers that I focus on. And they simply tell me nothing."

"You're not the only one researching, though, right? Surely all the great scientific minds working on this can figure something out," said Beth.

Idan smiled. "Yes, just as we figured it all out in the turn," he said.

"Hey, it'll be easier this time around without walkers tryin'a get t'you," said Daryl.

Idan nodded. "This is true," he said. "It's frustrating, nonetheless." He paused. "There was a scientist at my facility in Israel who had arrived from Denmark the day before we were locked in. Her name was Emma. Together, we learned English. And I fell in love with her. The day I woke up and realized she was gone, as if everything we had been through together had never happened and we'd never met... that was the worst part. I do this research with the hope that I can find my Emma, and know that she will recognize me and love me again."

Beth glanced over at Daryl, and he took his gaze away from her. He was fidgeting, pulling at his pant legs against his thighs. At the mention of love, he became nervous around her. She was becoming more and more confident that this was a good thing.

"I would just be grateful if you two would tell me a bit more about your experiences," said Idan. "To aid my research.

"Of course," said Beth.

And thus commenced three hours of telling the same story, yet again.

Brian had slipped out before Beth and Daryl began to recount their story. The pair found him standing beside Piper and Jane, who both sat at a table in the cafeteria.

"Looks like Idan kept you two long enough," he laughed.

"Maybe his research'll be better'n Pearson's or whatever," said Daryl.

Jane nodded. "When someone is able to work on their own time, with no higher authority to call to, the work is always better."

"Hey, don't you think Dorothy is ready for us?" asked Piper from her seat.

Brian nodded. "You two should join," he said, smiling.

"Who's Dorothy?" asked Daryl.

Piper smiled. "A glorious woman," she said with dramatic admiration. She stood with Jane. "Brian, lead the way."

The group went down a hall which Beth hadn't yet been down. A few yards down was an open door, through which Beth saw hints of a bedroom similar to her and Piper's.

"I hear footsteps!" said a chipper voice from within.

The group filed into the little room. A very small woman with silver hair and scrubs that hung loosely over her bony shoulders sat hunched on the twin bed. She smiled as they came in, and her eyes caught Beth's.

"Oooh my, who do we have here?" she said.

"Dorothy, this is Beth and Daryl, the latest arrivals," explained Brian, sitting down beside the woman. His voice kept the same gentle tone it had towards everyone else he spoke to.

"Do you two play?" asked Dorothy.

Both Beth and Daryl hesitated.

"Play?" asked Beth kindly.

The woman promptly turned to reach behind the foot of the bed, and pulled out a keyboard. She slid it onto her lap. "I was in a band for the large majority of my life."

Beth almost laughed at this very sudden turn of events. "I play a bit, actually!" she said.

Daryl smiled down at her. "You should play somethin'," he said.

Dorothy slapped the keyboard, then the spot on the bed between her and Brian. "Play us a tune," she said.

Beth left her spot beside Daryl, edging between Piper and Jane to sit beside the woman. "I really can't play much," she said, smiling bashfully. "With sheet music, that's a different story…"

"Go on, go on," encouraged Dorothy, sliding the keyboard onto Beth's lap.

Beth watched her own fingers as they spread out delicately and played a C chord. She rocked each finger in a wave motion, letting the chord become three notes. She joined in with her left hand, and moved to the A chord. Soon she was adding in different notes. She ended again with a C chord.

"Beautiful!" said Dorothy after the girl glanced up, finished.

"You should play us something," said Beth.

"She does," said Piper. "We come here every other day to listen to her performances." She gave the woman a smile.

"I hadn't performed for anyone in years," said Dorothy, gazing down at the keyboard now on her thighs. "These three came and visited me so soon after they found out I played, and Joanna got me this keyboard. Such sweet people here, really."

Her bony fingers, with their skin loosely hanging down and trembling with each movement, sat themselves on the plasticy keys. Then, they were off.

Somehow, to Beth, the music sounded like Daryl.

It was a sweet melody, but with deep, low undertones. Something sad and nostalgic, yet pure and sweet like honey. She saw him pulling up on his motorcycle in the gravel of the prison yard; his pitiful, hunched-over form in the yard of the house with the moonshine; and his dirt-caked fingers reaching out for the wildflowers to adorn her father's stand-in grave. The images changed with every shift in chords.

She watched Dorothy play and realized that this music was the old woman's voice that had not changed. The fingers gracing the keys had grown wrinkled and motley, but the notes still played the same. The same notes which had once echoed in the home of her childhood still sung to her old ears now, in this research facility surrounded by strangers united by a similar memory.

"Beautiful, as always, Dorothy," said Jane.

Dorothy batted her hand. "Oh, now," she said.

"When did you start playing?" asked Beth.

Dorothy's thin lips parted slowly, the little creases on her upper lip unfolding. "Goodness, I must've been...somewhere around 11." She smiled. "My daddy played guitar."

"So did mine," said Piper, smiling down at the elderly woman. "He'd sit with me in the back of his beat-up truck and play songs with me for hours."

Dorothy shook her head. "Music does wonderful things to bring people together," she said.

Piper nodded, then hesitated. "He was actually my step dad. Those days playing guitar with him is what made me stop calling him Mel and start calling him Dad."

Beth looked at the redhead who stood between Daryl and Jane. And suddenly, she saw the familiar jawline, the twinkling eyes, and the all around air of someone she knew. "Mel?" she asked.

Daryl met her gaze, and realization spread across his face. "Ol' Mel?" he asked incredulously, turning to Piper.

Piper furrowed her brow. "Yes!" she said. "How do you know my dad?"

Beth laughed. "We met him just a few days ago!" she said.

Dorothy, Jane, and Brian were watching curiously. "A very small world," said Dorothy.

Daryl and Beth were in a moment of surprised silence before Jane cleared her throat. "My meeting with Pearson should be starting soon; I should go," she said. She smiled at Dorothy. "Lovely playing."

With Jane's departure, the group began to filter out of the elderly woman's room.

"Goodbye, goodbye!" said Dorothy happily. The keyboard remained balanced across her lap.

Beth stood from the mattress with a creak as Daryl began to walk out the door.

"Beth," said Dorothy's feeble voice, stopping the young girl. "You really do have a knack for music. Your notes have a voice. They tell a story."

Beth wasn't sure how to respond. "Thank you very much," she said sincerely.

"He watches you play like that voice is singing only to him," sighed the woman, her glittering eyes flicking over Beth's face.

Beth didn't need to ask who "he" was.


	17. Ourself We Find In the Sea

Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

Beth ran her hand along the cold, metal handle of the cream book cart. Spines of books faced upward to the fluorescent lights, their sheen jackets reflecting and flashing. Beth smiled. Books were a lot like what she'd learned about people - each one looked somewhat similar on the outside, blending in with the others, but each held an intricate story, something completely their own. A whole world. That's what people were, really. Worlds. For everybody has their own set of eyes, their own perspective. Billions of perspectives; billions of worlds.

She pulled a book out from the cart. _Tender Is the Night_ by F. Scott Fitzgerald. She flipped through its pages, and a deep, sweet, musty air breezed against her face. These books were older, with their worn covers and yellowing pages. The library was more of a room filled with these cream book carts rather than large, mahogany shelves like one would like to picture. It was, however, something. A nice touch.

"What're you up to?" said a voice from behind her.

She turned. Daryl. "Taking advantage of this fine literary facility," said Beth with a smile.

Daryl smirked and scoffed. "Yeah, it's real fine. This shelving is top notch." He roughly pulled a cart towards him, then away.

Beth laughed. "Hey, it's somethin'," she said. "Don't you like to read?"

Daryl's smirk faded a touch. "It's alright," he said with a shrug.

Beth watched him carefully. "Do you have a favorite book?"

Daryl shrugged again. "I'unno," he muttered.

"I wonder if this one's any good," she said, holding up _Tender Is the Night_.

Daryl tilted his head as he looked at the cover. "Fitzgerald, huh. Gatsby guy, right?"

Beth smiled. He did, too, know something about literature. Even if it was just something he picked up in high school. "Yeah, I always liked Gatsby."

"Maybe you should read this," said Daryl.

"Oh, I really don't have time," said Beth.

"Th' hell? We got more time than we know what to do with," said Daryl.

Beth hesitated. "Well, it's just that...I don't wanna just sit and read and leave you by yourself," she said.

Daryl glanced down at his fingers as they fiddled with a book on the cart. "You could...I'unno...read it to me, or somethin'," he said quietly. He smirked, almost to cover up the sweetness that he'd just let seep out. "I'm sure you got a nice readin' voice."

A smile grew on Beth's face. "Okay," she said. She glanced about her, running one hand up and down her thigh slowly. "Where, uh, where would you wanna sit?"

His eyes fell upon a wide armchair in the corner of the makeshift library. He tilted his head that way.

The pair approached the singular chair. "Well, uh, go ahead and take a seat. I'll sit down here," said Beth, beginning to sit on the floor.

Daryl plopped down into the chair, then scooted as far as he could against the arm. He patted the narrow spot beside him.

Beth, albeit somewhat surprised, smiled shyly as she curled into the spot beside him. His scent engulfed her, and her leg just barely overlapped his. She gave a light cough as she opened the novel and her elbow pressed against Daryl's torso.

"Book 1, Chapter 1," she began. " _On the pleasant shore of the French Riviera, about half way between Marseilles and the Italian border, stands a large, proud, rose-colored hotel. Deferential palms cool its flushed facade, and before it stretches a short dazzling beach. Lately it has become a summer resort of notable and fashionable people; a decade ago it was almost deserted after its English clientele went north in April. Now, many bungalows cluster near it, but when this story begins only the cupolas of a dozen old villas rotted like water lilies among the massed pines between_ ," she paused, "Gaw-sis's Hotel des E-trangers and Cannes, _five miles away_."

"Dang good French," said Daryl, earning a collapse of laughter from Beth.

She read on, and about halfway through page five, felt an arm snake behind her neck. And she leaned into it.

This was the moment she'd driven to King County for. This pure moment of total bliss was all her life had been building up to. Every school day, every morning at the farm, every accident, every step, every breath - all had cumulated to this moment, leaning against Daryl Dixon, reading the thoughts of F. Scott Fitzgerald.

It was very good.

Daryl Dixon, the enigmatic mystery of a man who wasn't too into emotional expression or human contact, had fallen. His walls were crumbled, and his breath was filled with the sweet scent of Beth Greene's hair.

It was very, very good.

It was 3:47 p.m., and they'd read through to page 64.

"Daryl, I'm awfully tired," said Beth.

"Thanks for readin'," said Daryl.

She nodded, flipping idly through the pages. Her thumb caught on one, and her eyes fell upon a single sentence.

 _But someday I'm going to find somebody and love him and love him and never let him go._

Brian, Piper, and Jane were sat together at a table in the cafeteria when Beth and Daryl went to eat.

"Happy one week!" said Jane.

"Oh, gosh, has it really been a week since we got here?" said Beth.

"Three months for me," said Brian, popping a grape in his mouth.

Beth glanced at Daryl. How much longer would this research take?

In that moment, the question was answered.

"Please, please, everyone, get everyone together!" said the all-aflutter voice of Idan as he barreled into the cafeteria, his arms overflowing with folders and papers.

The others became somewhat panicked at this sudden outburst, but Brian remained sitting and calm. "What is it, Idan?" he asked.

"I think, maybe, I have found something," said Idan.

Brian stood without another word and went to round people up.

When the cafeteria was abuzz with other survivors, many of whom Beth hadn't yet met or seen, Idan stood on one of the table's seats and hushed the crowd.

"Friends, friends, hello," he said over the hum. It quieted. "As you all know, I've been conducting interviews with each of you for some time now, separate from the research of this facility. It has been a struggle trying to decipher some meaning from all of your different accounts, but I think I have, quite possibly, found a connection."

Beth's toe was tapping beneath the cafeteria table. Jane wrung her hands beside her. Piper sat incredibly still, with eyes on Emerson who stood beside a column several feet away.

"Water," said Idan.

There was another wave of voices, which he quickly hushed again. "Let me elaborate. In your interviews, you all deal with water just around the time the Reversion occurs. Such a small detail showing up in each account _has_ to mean something. It is the only constant occurrence." He turned to Piper, and hastily flipped through the files in his hands. He found one, throwing the others down onto the table. "Miss Stone, let me refer to your account. In your account, you claim to have been 'hiking in a heavy rain shower' when the Reversion occurred. You were, therefore, very much in contact with water." He turned to Jane, and rummaged through the papers again. "And Miss Carlyle, in your account you said you were 'washing vegetables from your makeshift garden' when the Reversion occurred, and therefore in contact with water. And this pattern, this reappearance of water, remains constant with every account."

The hum of voices was rising again.

"So what does this mean?" asked a man from the back, his voice calling out above the hum. "What do we do with this information?"

Idan hesitated. "What this means is that we are one step closer to understanding the cause of the Reversion, and therefore the possibility of regaining the world's lost memories."

"Hold on now for just a minute," said Emerson loudly. "You sayin' we wanna bring that stuff _back_? The biters?" His arms were crossed against his chest, and his biceps, disproportionately large to the rest of his body, stretched the blue sleeves of his scrubs.

Idan shook his head. "No, no, not necessarily," he said.

"Yeah, I'd hope not," said Emerson threateningly, nodding slowly with wide, angry eyes. "Because if you think for one second that I'm gonna let you tear up what we just now got back, hell, you're dumber than a sack of hammers."

Beth was quiet throughout this conversation, her thoughts elsewhere. Yes, she had been in contact with water right before she had woken up in her bedroom at the farm. But she'd been _dead_. That water wasn't even real. Was it?

Idan had stepped down from the table's seat, and Beth quickly approached him. "Idan, we need to talk," she said.

Idan nodded. "I know," he said. "You're wondering how the water in your account can be compared to that of the other accounts, considering you hadn't been alive at the time."

Beth nodded.

"Why don't we discuss this in my office," said Idan.

Beth followed, and Daryl, without question, went along after her.

"You see, to properly approach the topic of the water in your account correlating with the others' mentions of water, we must first answer the question: what was this experience you had after death?" began Idan. He sat down in the chair behind his desk after flicking on a lamp.

"I really can't explain it," said Beth. "I have no idea."

"Well, I have been very closely studying your case, Beth. Very closely," said Idan. "You are a Christian, correct?"

Beth nodded. "Yes."

"So you believe in life after death? Heaven?"

"Yes."

Idan nodded. "I, too, believe in life after death," he said. He looked at her. "What you experienced does not correlate with the usual depiction of Heaven."

"No, it certainly doesn't," said Beth.

"In that case, my best guess is this: when you were shot and killed, you went into a state of purgatory. A sort of sideways, parallel universe," said Idan.

"Why would I do that?" asked Beth. Daryl stood behind her, fingers fidgeting.

"Simply because _you weren't done_ ," said Idan.

Beth was quiet. "That just doesn't make sense," she said. "How would that happen?"

Idan leaned back. "There are many unanswered hows in the world, Beth," he said. "In fact, I have another one for you. Even if your post-death experiences were _semi_ real, how would whatever correlation there is between the water in the other accounts still stand in the water of your account?"

"Wait," said Daryl, his voice surprising both Beth and Idan. "I know that in Beth's story, she said she was, y'know, washing up my finger or whatever with water. But...there's just a detail that I think is stronger than that."

"What is it?" asked Idan.

Daryl gave a cough and shifted his feet. "When we, uh, buried her, we were all real tired, so it was a...a shallow grave. Right next to a big ol' pond. It's jus' possible that…" He hesitated.

"Rain water and water from the pond seeped through the thin topsoil, contaminating the body," said Idan.

Daryl nodded.

"Yes, that is a very plausible explanation," Idan said. "But regardless of which explanation for Beth's account we go with, there is still the large, overhanging question: what is it about the water that's important?"

"If there _is_ anything important," added Beth. "If there is, I would think it's some sort of...contaminant in the water."

"Yes, that was also my thought," said Idan. "I need to take this to Pearson so he can have the lab run some tests."

The answer to all was close, and Beth could feel it tickling her skin. Or perhaps it was only the lingering burn of Daryl's arm against her neck.

 _But someday I'm going to find somebody and love him and love him and never let him go._

A/N: All of the excerpts from _Tender Is the Night_ are the work of F. Scott Fitzgerald.


	18. Terror in the Name of Heroism

A/N: SO sorry for the long wait! I've been on vacation recently, and I was able to update my other main story just before leaving for another trip. I've finally been able to finish this chapter! Without further ado, I don't own anything you recognize.

"Beth," whispered a voice. A rough, raspy, scared voice. "Beth."

"W-wha…" mumbled another voice from across the room.

"Beth, come on," whispered the raspy voice again.

Beth's eyes fluttered open. The blurry image of Daryl leaned over her. Piper was mumbling and squirming under her own covers across from Beth's bed.

"We gotta go," said Daryl. His sturdy hands reached under her sheets and blanket, wrapping under her knees and around her waist. He lifted her up, her tired head lolling against his chest. He barrelled out of the bedroom, and Piper sat up lazily before throwing herself out of bed and following.

"What's happening?" said Beth, her words slurring together.

"Emerson," said Daryl. "He dragged Maverick outta bed, goin' on about shootin' up the place. Like he was gon' do somethin' to Idan."

Beth's arms clenched tighter around Daryl's neck. She looked over his shoulder as he hurried down the hall and saw Piper rushing along behind them. Beyond the redhead, a metal gate was shaking, closing across the opening into the cafeteria. Voices echoed along the cold walls.

She looked ahead; Idan was leaning out of his office, eyes and hair matchingly wild. He motioned them towards him. "Pearson radioed me."

"So he knows 'bout Emerson?" asked Daryl, swinging Beth's legs away from the door frame as he plowed into the lamplit office.

"Oh yes. There is a whole group of them, rebelling," said Idan. "Emerson's a real modern day Hitler with that crazed charisma."

"Encouraging," said Beth, still in Daryl's arms.

A new wave of worry deepened in Idan's eyes. "Your legs. What is wrong with them?"

Daryl's neck began to feel warm against Beth's hands.

"Nothin'," said Beth. "I just woke up." She felt Daryl's grip loosen, but tightened hers on his neck.

Idan nodded. "Well, Emerson. I didn't see it in him," he said.

"I'unno, I kinda did. The way he just had this...dominion over Maverick. Mav's a good guy, but he jus' follows Emerson around like some puppy. S'weird," said Daryl.

Piper stood in the doorway, eyes cold and steely. "I'm so sorry," she said. "He's...he just doesn't understand that the world isn't out to get him anymore." Her red hair fell across her forehead as she looked down at the floor.

"His actions aren't your fault," said Beth firmly over Daryl's shoulder.

"Everyone okay?" asked a calming voice. Brian. He came into the office with Jane at his side. "Pearson came by our rooms. Told us what's going on with Emerson." He gave Piper's shoulder a sympathetic pat of comfort.

"Where's Pearson now?" asked Idan.

"Probably still going to warn those he can. Get them into the East Wing before it's closed off from Emerson's block," said Jane.

"I should go help him," said Brian, backing out of the doorway.

"No, please!" said Jane, grabbing his arm. Piper, too, stepped towards him.

He gave the two a hug. "I need to find Dorothy. She's still in the West Wing."

Beth, still in Daryl's arms, spoke up. "Let me go with you," she said.

"Naw," mumbled Daryl to her.

"Yes," said Beth.

"Don't worry yourself, Beth. I'll be back quickly," said Brian. He gave her a nod, meant just for her. And he left.

"He'll kill him," said Piper quietly. "If Emerson finds Brian, he'll kill him."

"Piper, don't say that," whispered Jane.

"Brian is a smart man. A good man. He will be okay," said Idan. "Right now, we need to get to the lab."

"Why the lab?" asked Daryl.

"Emerson conveniently decided to cause all of this trouble on the very night that I have a breakthrough, if you will. I received contact from another research center, stationed in Tokyo. What they told me is...it's...I will explain in the lab. We need to get there," said Idan.

"Well," said Daryl. "Let's get there."

The group left Idan's office after the man took an armful of folders and files from his desk. They moved down the hall under the flickering lights, away from the eerily quiet cafeteria. Beth thought of Brian, slipping under one of the last closing gates. Getting to Dorothy, who may already be taken by Emerson, or killed. He'd be okay… and yet her heart told her otherwise.  
"Daryl, let me down," she whispered as the group approached the wide glass doors of the lab. Beyond the glass, multiple people watched them come forward. They watched with temedity, a nervous buzz in the air felt even despite the wall dividing the researchers and the group.

"Sorry," mumbled Daryl, his grip loosening on her back and thighs.

"No, no it's not...Daryl, I need to get to Brian," she whispered as she slipped to the ground.

Daryl shook his head.

She tilted her head and pursed her lips. "I've got a bad feeling about him goin' out there," she said. "I'm going."

They stood in the back, and when the others filtered in through the glass lab doors after a green light admitted them, Beth slipped behind a corner. Daryl watched her for a moment, and he knew he had no other choice. He followed.

"Daryl, where're you two going?" said Jane, turning back as she stood in the lab doorway.

"We'll be back. We're just goin' to help Brian," said Daryl.

Jane stood straighter. "Do you need help?"

"You stay here. Watch over the lab, and Piper. Make sure she don't do anything...I'unno, anything crazy," he said. He gave her a nod and was off.

Beth was already around the corner and headed in the direction of her room. "Do you think we'll be able to get around the gates?" she asked.

"Maybe there's a way to open 'em from our side," said Daryl.

They saw them, the metal bars flickering like the lights. The cafeteria was dark, foreboding. There were no yells, not even distant voices anymore. Not even a footfall.

"Where do you think they are? Emerson and them?" asked Beth. She felt the need to whisper; her voice was held down by the darkness, threatened.

"Who knows," whispered Daryl. He touched the gate, bending down and examining its mechanics. "There's no latch, or anythin'. It must be controlled from somewhere else."

"Somewhere in the East Wing?" asked Beth.

"No," said a voice from behind them.

"Pearson," said Beth, turning with Daryl towards the man. "How'd you get over here?"

"I went under the last gate before Joanna shut it. She's locked in the office that runs the gates, the intercom...it's in the West Wing," he said. "What are you two doing here?"

"Did you see Brian? He went out there to get Dorothy," said Beth.

"No, no, I...he must have gone under the gate I left through, just before I got there," said Pearson. "I couldn't find Dorothy in her room."

"You need to get to the lab," said Daryl. "An' we need to get out there."

"Listen, I haven't seen Emerson and his gang yet. I don't know how dangerous they are. I don't even know where they're at," said Pearson. "You two shouldn't go out there. Not yet, and not alone. I'd send security, but...I can't find them. Anywhere."

"Listen, we've been through a _hell_ of a lot worse," said Daryl.

"You've heard it yourself," said Beth. "And Dorothy's still out there somewhere. We can find her."

Pearson watched them. "Okay," he said after a moment. "Just...be careful. I've been doing interviews with Emerson for a while now, ever since he came in from Russellcroft Hospital. He's willing to do some...some bad stuff."

Beth and Daryl nodded. "An' what about this Joanna? You said she could lift the gates?" said Daryl.

Pearson nodded. "Last time I checked in with her, she was planning on shutting herself in that office. It makes a sort of base behind enemy lines, if you will."

"Tell her to raise this gate," said Daryl, eyeing the radio hanging from Pearson's belt.

Pearson took the radio and held it to his mouth. "Joanna," he said.

Static.

He held down the button. "Jo," he said. "Come in."

Static. And then, "Yeah, she ain't here right now. Can I take a message?" The words were

deep, raspy, and threatening in the voice alone.

"Emerson," said Beth.

Pearson's eyes bored into the radio. "Where the hell is she, Emerson," he said.

"You want her back, you do what we want," said Emerson.

Pearson looked up at Beth and Daryl, pleading. "I've gotta help her," he said.

Daryl reached his hands towards the man. "Aight, listen, you get to Idan. He needs you in there. We're goin' out there, an' we'll look for Joanna. We'll find a way in around the gate."

"Fine," said Pearson after hesitating. "Just...hurry back." He turned and hurried down the hall.

"And Pearson," said Beth. "You be careful, too."

He stopped, turned back, and saluted.

Beth turned towards Daryl. "How are we supposed to get around this gate?"

His eyes were gazing upwards. "This place has heatin' an' coolin', don't it?"

Their gazes met. "Well, let's get goin'," said Beth.

They made their way back down the hallway, turning two corners with their eyes focused

on the ceiling. Still no voices.

As they searched for a vent, Beth could feel Rick, Maggie, Glenn, Carol, Michonne...everyone behind her. She felt the sturdiness of their footfalls as they searched with her and Daryl. She felt their assuring presence, the strength in their fists as they gripped their weapons. She glanced behind her and saw the empty hallway.

Daryl bumped her shoulder. "There," he said, pointing upwards. A vent was hidden amongst the ceiling tiles, and beyond its slits was a labyrinth Beth knew they'd have to navigate.

"How're we s'posed to get up there?" asked Daryl.

Beth went to the nearest door, peeking inside. "There's nothing to stand on in here," she said. "But here's a broom." She emerged with said broom in hand. "We can use it to bust open the vent, and then I can hoist you up, you pull me up...you get the idea."

Daryl was nodding. "Yeah, okay," he said. "Bust away."

Beth stood under the vent, clenched her jaw, and held the broom firmly in her fists. She shoved it into the air, jamming the tip into the metal grate. A tinny crash reverberated along the walls and the ductwork above. She struck again, and the vent freed, slipping upwards into the shaft. She put the broom back where she'd found it.

"I can hoist you up," she said.

Daryl hesitated. "Y'sure?"

Beth cocked her head and set her jaw. She bent down and folded her fingers together. She nodded towards his feet.

He watched her, with her blond hair in a disheveled braid from what sleep she had gotten, and smiled. It was a small smile, a curl of one corner of his lips, but it was one of pride, of admiration, of disbelief in whose presence he was in. An amused disbelief in the strength the young woman had unknowingly found in these past years. And he placed his foot in her hands.

She pulled her mouth inwards, holding in a grunt. She heaved her arms upward, and Daryl was lifted. He reached his arms as high as he possibly could, feeling the painful stretch in his armpits as his tendons were pulled taut like rope. The metal of the vent was cold on his fingertips - and that was all with which he had a grip. But he felt her hands quivering, her wrists shaking. He pulled himself up, using the subdued sounds of her struggle to will his body upwards. His palm was bent around the metal now; a solid grip. A forearm. An elbow. He leaned his head into the vent, crawling in until he brought his legs in with him.

Beth stood shakily, brushing off her knees. "Can you reach down far enough to get me?" she asked.

Daryl nodded from the black hole in the ceiling, and bent his torso out. Her hands grasped onto his forearms, and his fingers wrapped around hers. Her grip traveled up his body as she climbed and he pulled, until they found his neck.

"Careful, now, that metal's sharp," he murmured as her torso came up onto him.

She pulled her legs in, and Daryl scooted down the shaft to make room for her. She took the metal grate and replaced it over the open space. "Now where do we go?" she said, her quiet words loud in the silence of the vent.

Daryl glanced behind him. "Turning right, that should lead us to the west wing…" he said. He looked in the other direction. "Yeah. Yeah, we'll go right."

She nodded. "After you, then," she said. She offered a small smile.

Daryl returned it. "Lemme be your guest, huh?" He smirked and chuckled, and she smiled at his teasing. He turned and began to crawl.

The air was thin in the shaft. Beth went to push a straggly lock of hair that was falling from her braid out of her eyes, but her elbow hit the metal wall. _Don't think about it_ , she told herself. _Don't think about it, don't think about it_. The metal was closing in on her, and the vent's opening - the escape - was growing farther and farther away. The shaft was so narrow, so tight around her, that she wouldn't be able to turn back; she would be stuck with her neck bent and her chin against her chest, her knees hitting her forehead as the cold metal pressed her thighs into her stomach. No room for anything, not even breathing.

"Y'okay back there?"

His words pushed the walls away from her, unfolded her limbs, and lifted her face from her chest. She was crawling, still crawling.

"I'm fine," she said. "I get a little claustrophobic."

"It's tight in here," said Daryl's grumbling voice. "We'll get to the west wing soon. This place ain't that big. Just keep on crawlin'."

And she did. And so did he.

The stripes of light up ahead came later, after corners and curves and long stretches of darkness. Daryl leaned over the grate and reached back, holding up his fingers. Voices.

The words were indiscernible, but their fervor was. Loud, gruff, mean.

Daryl glanced back at her and shrugged, shaking his head slowly. They were there, above somewhere in the west wing. Did they drop down? Attack? Stay and just listen?

She tugged on his pant leg at his ankle and mouthed, "Different grate?"

Daryl watched her, considering, before looking back at the stripes of light. And then the voices got closer. He looked back at her and held a hand to his ear. Listen.

"Pearson supports that freakin' terrorist...gonna kill us all…" said one voice.

"What are we supposed...all of 'em? They aren't the...trying to bring it back…" said another.

Beth tried to get closer to listen better.

"It's the research," said a clear voice. Emerson. "We gotta get rid of the research."

"Yeah, well, that's what Pearson's gonna protect. That's what this whole damn operation's about," said another.

"Well, it's what's gonna bring back the _whole damn apocalypse_. I don't care how many people he's got guardin' whatever he's got in the labs. We won't let 'em go through with it, not anymore," said Emerson.

There was a moment of silence. "Pearson doesn't even know what we went through. 'Course he doesn't worry 'bout bringing back the walkers. Tearing down the world we finally got back. He doesn't know what it was like to have it gone!" said one of the earlier voices.

"He's risking too much with that research," said Emerson.

"How long we keepin' Joanna alive?" asked another man.

"If Pearson wants her back, he gives up the research. Let's us shoot Idan for good measure," said Emerson. "Or we'll go in by force."

"And this wing's cleared out? Pearson's got 'em all in the east wing?" asked a voice. Maverick.

"Yeah, right in the place we might just shoot up," said Emerson. He laughed. "What an idiot."

They didn't know about Dorothy or Brian. They didn't have them, not yet.

Daryl looked back at Beth. "Another grate," he mouthed, nodding.

They continued on until stumbling upon another vent opening. This one did not emit the previous stripes of light; the lights below were turned off. Daryl nodded back to Beth, tilting his head towards the grate.

He unlatched it from the shaft and sat it aside. His head went out first, glancing around. He pulled himself back up and swung his legs out, jumping down into the darkened room.

Beth let her pajama-clad legs dangle out, lower and lower, until she felt Daryl grab onto her lower torso, pulling her down. His arms lingered around her as they both looked at their surroundings.

The opposite wall of the room was made of windows which looked out upon a narrow hall. Their eyes had just adjusted to the dim darkness when fluorescent lights flickered beyond the windows and illuminated the corridor.


	19. Separation and Answers

A/N: I don't own anything you recognize.

"Daryl!" hissed Beth. Her frantic eyes met his in the sudden illumination which seeped in from the hall beyond the glass.

His eyes moved quick - an open door to their left revealing a closet. She followed his gaze, and they dashed into the tiny space, shutting the door behind them just before voices echoed from the hall.

"You'll have to hide in here, just until I can figure out how to get us back around those gates," said a voice. Brian.

Daryl opened the closet door instinctively to see Brian and Dorothy standing in the doorway, dim and outlined in pale yellow. "Turn off the hall light," he said.

Brian looked shocked at first to see Daryl and Beth emerge from the closet, but immediately leaned out into the hall, going towards the switch.

"Wait," said Beth. "They might see the light turn off. Know we're here."

Brian snaked his hand back through the doorway.

"What're you two doing here?" whispered Brian, shutting the room's door.

"We're tryin' to help you," said Beth, placing a hand on Dorothy's shoulder. "And Dorothy."

Brian was quiet. "And the gates? How're we supposed to get back to our wing?"

"We went through the vents. Do you think you can navigate your way back with Dorothy?" asked Daryl.

Brian was quiet again. "Now what about you two? Why wouldn't you be coming along?"

Beth and Daryl glanced at each other. "They still have Joanna. That's why the gates can't be lifted; the control room was taken over when they got her."

"Joanna? No, no, I need to stay back and help find her," said Brian.

"Listen, we dunno where the security's at, either," said Daryl. "It's dangerous on this side a' the gates. Get Dorothy back to safety."

"You know, I did manage to survive for quite a while during the turn," said Dorothy. "I can navigate my way back by myself, if you all want to find Joanna."

"I'll go with you," said Beth.

Daryl's shoulders stiffened.

"Hey, I thought you wanted me safe, too," said Beth to Daryl.

He nodded slowly. "Y'don't wanna find Joanna?"

"Of course I do," she said, turning towards Dorothy. "But this is important. Plus, I'd like to check back in with the others in the lab."

Daryl stepped towards her. "Be careful," he said. His eyes were firm, his words steady.

She grabbed his hand and offered a small smile as she felt his fingers stiffen. "Daryl, I'm not leaving you, not for good. I'm not gonna leave you." And she leaned her forehead onto his chest.

He closed his eyes, leaning his chin into her hair. It was soft, and warm. His fingers loosened, and his grip on her hand tightened.

"Help me up?" she asked quietly.

He nodded, letting go of her hand.

They all three hoisted Dorothy up first. Beth followed, grabbing onto the metal and feeling Daryl's grip on her calves slipping away.

He watched her fade into the darkness of the vent, praying it wouldn't be his last glimpse of that blond hair and those smart, blue eyes.

And the metal grate closed. And they were gone.

"She'll be alright," said Brian. "We sh-." He was cut off by more voices echoing from the hall. He and Daryl fell to the ground, crawling beneath a table.

Daryl craned his neck to look at the metal grate of the vent as the voices grew closer. Brian was completely silent beside him.

"I thought you said the armory was this way," said a voice.

"It's not gonna be a full-on armory, Jim," said another. "But they store their weapons in this wing. I've seen the room."

"Why didn't we keep at least one of the security force alive to show us the weapons?"

Daryl felt Brian's arm stiffen beside him.

"Whatever. It's down this way." The voices faded with the footsteps.

Daryl and Brian met gazes. "They came from the left," whispered Brian. "That's where Joanna could be."

"But weapons are to the right," said Daryl, crawling out from under the table. "We need 'em. Best way to fight weapons is with weapons."

Brian paused, standing. "Well, I can't argue with that. I'd like to say we could use some polite diplomacy with these folks, but I don't imagine that'll work out very well. Not if they murdered all those security men and women. Let's head right."

Daryl leaned out of the doorway first. "Wish they would'a turned these lights back off. Better cover," he said.

They crept down the gray hallways, always on edge that a follower of Emerson would be around every corner. Daryl cursed Emerson and his radical cronies; the world would never be free of monsters, it seemed.

Voices. Up ahead, an open door.

"That's where they keep the guns," mumbled Daryl.

"What's the plan?" asked Brian.

A group of people emerged from the doorway, and Daryl responded to Brian by grabbing his arm and pulling them both into the closest door. A dark, seemingly unused office. And they hid.

Down the hall and up above, Beth led Dorothy through the vents.

"Okay, I think it's...a left here," she said, pausing at an intersection of ducts.

"God bless you and Daryl," said Dorothy. "Brian, too. I never expected such kindness."

Beth smiled, although Dorothy was behind her. "That's one thing I noticed during the turn. Strangers coming together. Kindness just all around. It brought out the best in humanity, in a way."

"Mm," agreed Dorothy. "And the worst. People like that Emerson."

"He hasn't let go of his fear, his aggression," said Beth, turning a corner. "Idan's only helping, not trying to bring back the end of the world."

"Now Idan, that's a good man right there. Kind as can be. Smart, too," said Dorothy.

"He's a good one," said Beth. "And-," She was cut off by voices below. She threw out her hand to stop Dorothy, and turned back with a finger over her lips. They sat in the dark, metal duct, both shakily trying to control their breath. The moment they needed to be silent was when their breath seemed the loudest, each exhalation a rocky reverberation on the metallic air.

The voices passed, and they continued on. They stopped at the grate Beth was sure was the one she and Daryl had first entered through. "I'll jump down first and help you afterwards," she said. She lifted the grate off and slid it to the side, dangling her legs out of the duct. "This better be the right exit, or the 'enemy' might be seeing my legs just hanging out of the ceiling right now." She slid down, clamping her hands down onto the metal despite the sharp edges digging into her palms. Her arms burned as she held on and lowered herself to the floor. Her feet found the tile, sending jolts up her legs as she dropped. "Alright, start lowering down. Be careful."

Dorothy came down, and Beth grabbed the old woman's legs. She used all her strength not to send the woman cascading towards the floor in a crumpled heap. "We'll just have to leave the grate opened," said Dorothy.

"I suppose so," said Beth. "The lab's this way." The two hurried down the hall until the glass doors came back into view.

Piper, on the other side of the glass, took a sharp inhalation and let her shoulders jump upwards at the sight of Beth and Dorothy. The glass doors slid open, and she ran to them. "Emerson, did you see him?"

Beth shook her head. "No, no I didn't see him. He's got a lot of people behind him, though."

Piper nodded slowly. "He has a way with words." Her hair was in some sort of up-do, with the red tendrils falling down around her face, sticking outwards from her ears and seeming to float. Her eyes were tired, and red as if she'd just been swimming. She crossed her arms over her chest and turned back into the lab. "You should talk to Idan. He told us some interesting news."

Jane took Dorothy into a hug, and led the woman towards chairs nearer the back of the lab. Beth, furrowing her brow and quickening her pace, went to Idan who stood at a counter.

"What news?" she said.

"Ah, yes," said Idan, nodding. "The word I received from Tokyo. We should sit."

She sat with him, wishing Daryl was beside her to hear this.

Idan cleared his throat, sitting perfectly upright with his legs like a doll's. "This research center in Tokyo is... _extremely_ technologically advanced. I would not be surprised if they had already invented time travel."

Beth chuckled.

"I wish I could join in your laughter, but I am completely serious," said Idan. "Even before the turn, I knew of their incredible strides in world innovation. And when I was stuck in my own research lab, I knew that they would surely be surviving, continuing their research. What I discovered from them just now is that they never once fell during the turn. They lost lives, yes, but in general they were able to continue researching, becoming the only world research center to survive and keep up the work towards eradicating this apocalyptic disease. And...they did."

"They did?" said Beth.

"In a way," said Idan. "They found a way to completely erase its existence. Its memory."

Beth felt her eyes watering up, and she wasn't sure why. "You can't mean that they...they actually found a way to scientifically wipe the world's memory, set everything back to the way it was. That scientists are behind _all_ of this."

"Yes, well, it is what I mean," said Idan. "These scientists, these _gods_ , are incredible. Revolutionary. I always knew this, but what they've achieved now is just beyond belief."

"Yes," said Beth, nodding firmly - incredulously. "It is."

"I assume you're wondering how they achieved this," said Idan. "When they finally

reached out to me, they told me something very, very exciting." He paused. He grinned. "I really was not exaggerating when I said they may have already invented time travel."

Beth tilted her head, disbelieving. "No," she said.

"Don't get me wrong, I don't mean a pure form of time travel. But in a way, yes," said Idan. "They reset earth, Beth. They sent me samples of their work, of their notes. I do not comprehend most of it."

"They reset earth to how it was without the turn?" asked Beth.

"How it would be in present day if the turn had never happened," said Idan. He cleared his throat. "Imagine time as a genetic sequence. Now, imagine if you could go into that sequence and pick out one little section. One tiny building block. It would change every other piece after it in the sequence."

"So...what you're saying is they...they gene spliced time? Earth?" asked Beth.

"Essentially...it is more complicated," said Idan.

"But…" She was at a loss for words. "Can they fix it?"

"Well, I'm not sure they want to. This world without the turn is what they wanted to achieve," said Idan.

"But they changed the people themselves! Memories were still made during those dark years. My sister got married, and now she hasn't even _heard_ of her husband. They can't just take those memories from the people who were still surviving," said Beth.

"I know, I know," said Idan. "And that is the issue at hand. We need to bring the memories back, not the walkers."

"There's no way to," said Beth, looking away from Idan and out at the lab. She thought of Rick. She thought of Glenn. Michonne. Carol. Treetops filtering sunlight into a tent. The putrid smell of wet grass. Hiking boots on pavement.

"I think, actually, there may be a way," said Idan. "You see, I believe you are overlooking something about the researchers in Tokyo. How do they _all_ remember the turn? They contacted me with a very detailed knowledge and memory of the turn itself. How could they conveniently avoid anyone from their staff having their memories erased like the rest of the world?"

Beth thought for a moment. "I...I don't know."

"I will tell you. Some of the researchers discovered a... a molecular organism of sorts. A perfectly ordinary organism, really. Ordinary until mixed with the conditions of their research. When they 'erased' the turn, if you will, this organism kept whatever organism consumed it the same. Unchanged, basically. It is a very neurological little beast," said Idan.

"A molecular organism," repeated Beth. "How did they consume it?"

Idan smiled. "In water. Where it is commonly found."

Beth paused. "You don't think that...that same organism could be the reason we remember?"

"I do," said Idan. "You remember the one, miniscule corresponding detail from every survivor's story here. Water. They all involved water."

Beth smiled, throwing her face in her hands. She didn't understand - not fully. But it was enough. She glanced up at a ceiling vent hanging above her, and prayed Daryl would live to hear what she'd just heard.


	20. Martyr

A/N: I don't own anything you recognize.

The office smelled of glass cleaner and paper reams. A line of light sat at what Daryl knew to be the bottom of the closed door; occasionally two shadows of feet would pass by, momentarily blotching out sections of the light.

Voices, always harsh voices. They would pass by and the hall would fall quiet, tempting Daryl to stand from behind the desk and open the door. Then a new voice would arise, and the false sense of safety would be yanked from Daryl's shoulders.

He wanted to fight. He wanted to jump up, leap across the room and out into the hall. He wanted to take down every single one of those foggy-eyed followers of Emerson. But he knew that would be foolish. He knew, without a weapon, he couldn't do it. Not yet.

It was at least five minutes into hiding when Brian, from his crouched position, back leaned against the wall, began smiling up at the side of a filing cabinet. Daryl could barely see the faint shadows of his facial features, but it was enough. Brian's eyes glinted as they focused on whatever he was seeing.

"What're you lookin' at?" whispered Daryl.

Brian was quiet for a moment, still smiling wistfully. "This calendar, on the side of the cabinet," he began. "The picture's of Spain."

Daryl didn't say anything at first; he nodded slowly. "It's a...nice country," he whispered.

A voice yelled in the hall, and the mens' heads turned to the door for a moment. Before they turned back, Brian whispered, "My wife, Helen. She always wanted to go to Spain. She didn't indulge in a lot of dreams, but that was the one thing she always wanted."

Daryl's gaze fell back on Brian's palely illuminated figure. "Where is she now?"

Brian looked back at the calendar. "She died of cancer, two months before the turn," he said. "If she would've passed just a little while later, I might still have her. But, I wouldn't have wished the turn on her in the world. She went peacefully."

"I'm sorry," said Daryl.

"That's why we'd gone to Atlanta, to the research institute at Emory University." He nodded solemnly. "They did their best."

Daryl studied Brian. He was the man you immediately trusted, the man you immediately liked. Kind eyes, kind smile, kind spirit. Intelligence in his gaze, quiet and humble wisdom in his words. Still so good after losing the love of his life two months before losing the world, and what a woman Helen must have been.

"You love her, don't you?"

"Huh?" grunted Daryl.

"You'd die for her in a heartbeat. Beth," whispered Brian. "Don't worry, I know the feeling. I recognize it in you."

Daryl didn't say anything.

Brian nodded. "She's a good one. Smart as a whip. Cares a whole lot about you as well." He paused. "I don't know what she'd do without you."

Now Daryl paused. "I don't know what I'd do without her."

Brian smiled, but it was sad. Understanding. Like he was looking back on a memory, but he was looking at Daryl. "I've only heard two voices for the past while," he said after a moment of silence.

Daryl nodded.

"You know, I took something from them. When I was looking for Dorothy," said Brian.

Daryl looked up.

"I knew they'd be looking for it," Brian said, digging into his pocket. He pulled out a folded sheet. "It was on Pearson's desk. This has the security passcodes. Including the code that opens the door leading to the security office where I assume Joanna is still holed up."

Daryl sat up. "Do they know you have that?"

Brian shrugged. "I'm guessing they know it's gone. Surely that's why it's taking them so long to get anything started." He stared down at the paper, and Daryl could see his lips barely moving - memorizing.

And suddenly, he ripped the sheet into shreds. And he stood up. Daryl didn't have time to question him; Brian opened the door and was in the hall before Daryl could get a word out.

"Hey, you! What th'hell are you doing here?" shouted a voice.

The light from the hall silhouetted Brian, his arms raised in surrender. "Before you shoot me, I've got some codes you might be looking for."

"Give 'em here," said the second voice.

"I'm afraid this is all that's left of them," said Brian, letting the flakes of paper fall from one of his open fists hanging above his head.

"You better hope for your _life_ that you got those codes memorized," said the first voice.

"I do," said Brian. "So, I wouldn't shoot me."

One of the men growled. "You're gonna speak with Emerson. Come on."

Brian stepped from the doorway, lowering his arms. The men stepped alongside him, each with one arm on him, marching him down the hall. Away from the armory.

Daryl wanted nothing more than to salute the man.

He stood from behind the desk, peeking from the doorway out at the empty hall. The tiles beneath his shoes were still too loud as he crossed to the weapons room; surely someone was still nearby. The door opened with ease, and he shut it behind him.

No one was waiting for him among the shelves with a gun pointed at his chest. In fact, no one was there at all. The room was silent, dimly lit, and seemingly already either cleaned out by Emerson's crew, or usually this void of weapons. The racks on the walls were empty aside from a couple of pistols, which Daryl examined. A Glock 19 here. A Glock 22 two racks down. He took them both, rummaging through drawers for any sign of bullets. He found a box, loaded the pistols, put the Glock 19 in his belt, and carried the Glock 22 for himself.

He stopped for a moment, glancing around at the dim shelving and white floor tiles. The hum of the building, whether it was the air conditioner or some far-off machinery vibrating along the walls, was a constant; it was the only sound. It seemed louder the more he became aware of it, filling the space around his ears.

 _You love her, don't you?_

The grout lines between the tiles disappeared. The shades of white, the shadows, blended together into one swimming point in Daryl's vision. The walls faded away; there was emptiness in his peripheral view. His focus drew inwards, retracting into his mind, behind his eyelids and deep into his own head. All he could see was her.

Images of her, memories. They flashed by like flickering snippets of film. He saw her in cowboy boots and a white blouse striding across the front yard of the farm. He saw her smile flash from her seat at the dining table. He saw her crouching over her mother, screaming as her knees hit the dirt. He saw her blond hair in the sunlight. Her fingers on his crossbow. Her back as she played the piano in the funeral home. Her blushing smile, illuminated by the orange light of the kitchen. Her. Her, her, her, her.

 _You love her, don't you?_

 _I know you lost something back there._

 _I'm not gonna leave you!_

 _I don't cry anymore, Daryl._

He felt his back against the tree trunk. He felt the rain coming down on his face.

 _I was nobody. Nothin'._

He felt her knife on his hip. He saw her body limp on the white tiles of the hospital hall.

 _Don't you think that's beautiful?_

He saw her face looking up at his, those blue eyes, in the parking lot outside the pharmacy.

 _You love her, don't you?_

The weapons room snapped back into focus. She was waiting for him, and he needed to get to her.

The next step was finding Emerson, and therefore Brian.

He opened the door quietly; the hall was still empty. He left it open behind him, feeling stronger now with the gun in his hands. If he just continued down this hall, he would find them.

It was around two corners that he heard Emerson's voice. Loud, booming, traveling along the walls like the ricochet of a gunshot.

"We can figure out how to get in the security hall without your passcodes," he said. "It only takes a few shots of a gun to open some damn doors. It's just, if you would just _tell_ us the codes, it would make everything a whole lot easier. Brian, c'mon. Don't side with those maniacs in the other wing."

"Emerson, you _slaughtered_ the security men and women. I can't side with you," said Brian's voice.

Daryl swore he could feel anger ripple through the air as he stayed hidden around the corner, a darker shadow passing over everything like a blanket thrown down over your eyes.

"I bet you don't even know those codes, you lying piece of _shit_ ," said Emerson. There was a crash.

"Don't do this, Emerson," said Brian, his voice still calm. Firm.

"I haven't killed anyone that's not just one of _them_. They're just using us. Experimenting. They don't know what the hell they're getting into, trying to bring back the end of the world," said Emerson.

"That's not what they're trying to do, Emerson," said Brian. "They're researching a phenomenon. People across the world describe the same, strange memories that everyone else has seemingly forgotten - these people are just trying to figure out why."

" _They're going to bring it back_ ," said Emerson, gritting his teeth. There was another crash.

Daryl emerged from behind the corner, fingers itching on the gun. "Hold up," he growled. His eyes first fell to Brian on the ground, then to the chair on its side beside him. One of the men that had been outside the weapons room had a gun pointed down at Brian. Two other men stood behind Emerson.

"Oh, the newcomer coming to save the day. You don't have to tell me whose side you're on. I've seen you and your little blonde, all chummy with Idan," said Emerson, the surprise in his gaze at seeing Daryl quickly fading to anger.

"Y'know, if you're going against everyone in the other wing, you're going against Piper," said Daryl, holding his gun steady towards Emerson. "She's over there, too."

"She doesn't realize how much they're endangering her," said Emerson.

"The only one putting her in danger is you," said Daryl.

"You got codes? Because otherwise I don't have any problem shooting you right here," growled Emerson. Two men stood straighter beside him.

"I don't know any codes, but I've got a gun," said Daryl, gesturing with it. "So you just-."

He was stopped as Brian jumped up from the floor, kicking the man who held the gun to his head in the ankles. The man toppled, his gun clattering on the tiles. Brian kicked the gun down the hall, and it slid along the slick floor.

Emerson was aiming his gun, his eyes wide. Brian launched himself onto him, knocking the man into one of his cronies behind him.

The other cronie came out from behind Emerson, shooting once at Daryl. The bullet whizzed past Daryl's ear, and Daryl's own gun fired a bullet into the man's chest. The man crumpled to the ground. Daryl hadn't killed in so long.

The man Brian had kicked was crawling towards Daryl's ankles; the tip of Daryl's shoe connected with the man's face, and he was knocked backwards, unconscious.

Brian was struggling with Emerson, both wrestling for the gun still in Emerson's clutch. The man leftover, who first stood behind Emerson, was running down the hall, sweat dotting his t-shirt that clung to his back.

Brian's fingers were white at the knuckles as he wrenched the gun from Emerson, stepping back and aiming it at his opponent.

Emerson glanced around; the bloodied bodies at his feet, the lack of his third man. He looked back into the barrel of the gun, then at Brian's eyes.

Brian took a step forward, lowered the gun, and punched Emerson squarely in the jaw.

Emerson's head jerked back, and he wiped a trickle of crimson from his nose. His eyes were menacing, dark with rage. "Is that all you got?"

Brian's face remained stoic. "It's all I'm going to give."

A shot rang out.

Brian's eyebrows raised as his legs went limp. He fell to the tiles, their white sheen splattered with black. He held his arms into his torso, his fingers reaching out from his palms as his wrists touched. They convulsed until they were still. He stared at a point just beyond them, and he didn't look away.

Daryl's horrified face looked up from the too-familiar sight of blood pooling on white tiles, his gaze connecting with that of the man who had just run away. Daryl had assumed he had been running in fear, but he had been running for the gun Brian had kicked down the hall. And now the man stood with that pistol in his hand, still aiming it to where Brian once stood.

Daryl's own gun fired three times at the man, his aim sporadic, his face scrunched in fury. Emerson stared down at Brian's body.

The man crumpled to the floor, his hand still gripping the gun.

Daryl's gun flew back towards Emerson.

Two men remained. They faced each other, Brian's body in between their feet.


	21. Awakenings

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.

It was quiet in the lab. Three a.m. and the fluorescent lights were blinding, humming. A yellow wash cutting through the calm of night, sending the halls and rooms into a strange void, like an unusual dream that lingers with one for the day. Beth sat on a bench at the end of a shelf with Jane, whose ringlets of black hair fell into her eyes as she leaned back.

"I wish security would just wrangle in Emerson and his little followers," sighed the woman.

"It's worrisome that they haven't yet," said Beth.

"You don't think that they've been...y'know…" said Jane, opening her eyes.

"Emerson wouldn't stoop to that level...killing," said Piper nervously, pulling her arms tighter around her torso. She stood beside them, the blue under her eyes slowly turning to a deep purple. "I- I know he wouldn't."

Beth nodded. "Do you want my seat, Piper?" she asked. Before Piper could answer, Idan's voice penetrated the lull of the lab.

"Alright, I've contacted the lab in Tokyo," he said, emerging from behind a computer desk and approaching the group of people standing and sitting in the center of the lab.

"What did you say to them?" asked Beth, standing and walking closer to him, her arms folded tightly against her chest.

"I told them about my findings regarding the similarities of water in each story, about the molecular organism," said Idan. "My hope is that this molecular organism may still be of use to us."

"How so?" asked Jane.

Idan paused. "You would like for your loved ones to be able to remember, yes?" He turned to Beth. "And your sister - Maggie, isn't it? You would like for her to remember her husband, and to find him. Their memories of the turn should be a part of them."

Beth nodded. "Yes," she said. "I agree with that."

"Then...well, then bringing back those memories is crucial. And if there was a way for the researchers in Tokyo to replicate what they did - the reset - then, perhaps, there is a way to make sure everyone is in the state you were in when the reset occurred."

"In contact with water?" asked Piper.

"In contact with water," repeated Idan. "Water, specifically, that contains our favorite little organism."

Beth stared at Idan. "It's possible, then," she said. "We could bring back the memories of everyone. And the world would still be free of walkers." She paused. "Idan, that would be perfect."

"If Tokyo can replicate the reset, and if we can figure out a way to _somehow_ get the organism to everyone in need of their memories at the same time...then, yes. Yes, we could, theoretically, do it," said Idan. His stoic face blossomed into a smile.

"Theoretically is enough for me," said Beth. "The researchers in Tokyo better get back to you fast." She smiled back, excitement fluttering in her stomach. It hung in the air, too - a happy, jittery excitement flitting and clinging to each face, to each heart. Answers were coming.

No one knew that down the halls, Brian's blood was poured onto the floor. Only two bodies still stood.

"Emerson, this has gone far enough," growled Daryl, struggling to keep his gaze trained on the man before him - away from Brian at his feet. The tiles blurred together in his peripheral vision.

Emerson's eyebrows suddenly relaxed; his shoulders lowered. He looked up at Daryl blankly. "You're right," he said. The gun in his hand moved upward. And he shot himself.

Daryl's whole body jerked. He staggered backwards, but the tiles wouldn't feel solid. They felt like jelly, sticking to the soles of his shoes as they sank. Seeing someone die so violently bothered him, but not usually like this; the hall was spinning, every line becoming curved as they ebbed and waved in his vision. No, this wasn't normal. He'd seen enough death to not be affected like this.

And then it was gone.

Beth sat beside Jane, staring up at the ceiling with her head leaned back. The fluorescent lights were bright - blinding, from this angle. And yet as she stared, they began pulsing. The lights faded, dimming to a deeper yellow, then brightening again to a near white. Her head turned towards the glass doors of the lab, and she whispered, "Daryl."

And then it was gone.

Hard. Daryl's head was resting on something, but it was hard. It pressed into the back of his scalp. The blackness of his eyelids faded into dim light, and blurry objects slowly came into focus. Black tiles surrounded him - on the walls, on the ceiling. Three rows of bulbs hung above him like a cornfield.

Whatever room he was in was tiny, the size of a broom closet. He tried to lift up his torso, but found a thick belt holding him down. He tried his wrists and found them in the same state. He wrestled in the chair, bucking his shoulders and grunting.

He hadn't felt this awake - this real - in years. Why did everything look so vivid? So clear? So much more real than any of his memories from the turn and on; that was all so blurry. Beth's face was a far-off, slow-motion dream.

In fact, he felt like he'd just been pulled from a deep sleep.

"Beth!" he yelled, his voice startling him as it broke through the silence of the tiny room. "Beth!"

The lightbulbs above him snapped out, and everything was black. He could've been anywhere - anywhere - and he wouldn't have known the difference. He could've been surrounded by people, someone's face hovering just above his own, and he never would've been able to tell.

He knew the only thing around him was the black tiling; he knew it. But the longer he sat in the blackness, the more his senses faded from him. He was floating in an abyss. The belts around his wrists and ankles were gone. Did he even have wrists and ankles? He was a mind. He had lived many lives. He was awakened, and yet lost.

"Beth," he said again, his voice sad, desperate. But the word reverberated off...yes, tiles. His body snapped back into the chair, the belts tightened around his limbs again, and the tiles were yanked down, back into their places.

How long had he been here in the blackness? Minutes? Hours? Had it been days? There was no way to tell. Time had become nothing when he had lost his senses; he'd lost a hold on it that he could no longer get back.

"Beth," he said again. The room that he knew was around him pulsated. The word kept it intact.

Beth. She woke with a sharp intake of breath through her nose. Her chest shook. A row of fluorescent white lights were above her; she blinked, scrunching her eyes in the brightness. She lifted her body- but, wait, she couldn't. Why couldn't she move? Panic shot through her as she tried to kick. Belts. Belts held down her wrists and ankles.

Lifting her chin, she tried to look around herself. A white room. Hardly a room, actually, for it was so small. But everything was white. Why did the bulbs above her look so vivid? So clear? She had never felt her breath leave her lips so clearly. Every sensation was more lucid than she could remember feeling before.

She felt like she had awoken into reality.

"Daryl!" she said. His face was so distant. Was it even real? The word was loud, held in tightly by the closeness of the walls. It had nowhere to go, so it wrapped around her.

"Daryl!" she yelled again. She wriggled her wrists, trying to get free. The belts only seemed to tighten. Her throat tightened with them.

 _Don't cry_ , she told herself. _You can't cry. What's the point in that?_

But she needed to get out. A desperate, nauseating panic set into her chest, dripping into her stomach. She had to get out. Had to get out. Had to get out. She bucked in the chair, pulling her limbs against the belts until surely they were bleeding. She writhed and cried out, staring into the brightness of the bulb dangling calmly above her. Had to get out. Had to get out. The silence of the room became a weight, pounding in her ears. Laying across her face like a wet washcloth. Had to get out. Had to get out.

HAVE TO GET OUT, HAVE TO GET OUT, HAVE TO GET OUT.

She was screaming, whether inside her head or outwardly, she didn't know.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

The panic had a hold of her. She couldn't get out. There was nothing she could do. The panic was inescapable, but insufferable.

The doorknob clicked.

A figure walked in, a lab coat on over his suit. He walked calmly over to Beth, whose writing slowed despite her chest still rising and falling wildly. The man had his hands in his pockets.

"Beth," he said evenly. "Good morning." His white hair was swooped up from his forehead, blending in with the white light, which formed a halo around his head as he leaned over Beth. His eyes trailed down to her hands. "Look what you've done," he said, as if speaking to a child. He touched her wrist; she winced. He raised his fingers, and their tips were red with blood. Her blood.

"Daryl," she said quietly. His name almost made the belts feel looser.

The man met her eyes. He smiled serenely. "We have someone you should speak with."

He unleashed her limbs from the belts, and she felt an immense pressure be released. She sat up. Goodness, had she not sat up for years? It felt so.

She looked down at her bloodied wrists, stark red against the white. There were cuts, yes, but also two symmetrical red dots. No, no, they were holes. Her eyes trailed down to the belts hanging loose on the chair - each had two needle-like spikes protruding from it.

Her legs swung over the side of the chair, and the man's hand found her shoulder. He opened the door and led her into the hall. The hall was monochrome like her room, but these walls were gray.

Her legs were weak, and yet her steps felt more deliberate than they ever had. She imagined herself walking in the lab with Jane, and those steps seemed blurred. Like she'd been floating.

"Where am I?" she asked.

The man didn't answer. "A left here," he said, hand still on her shoulder.

She tenderly touched her wrist, wishing she could wash off the drying blood. It was so vividly red.

They emerged through a pair of double doors onto a metal balcony overlooking a chrome lab. A figure was hunched at a desk below, his back to them.

The man beside Beth gave a cough.

The man at the desk turned to face them.

And she knew him immediately. "Idan," said Beth, eyes wide.

Idan didn't react to her at all. He looked at the man beside her blankly. "So you've awoken them?"

"Most," replied the man.

Idan stood from the desk, coming up the stairs, a metallic clang with each step. "Bring her to the tank." He didn't even glance at her as he passed.

She felt a tinge of panic settling back into her chest. Why didn't he look at her? She saw the look in Rick's eyes when he didn't recognize her. Not again, please not again.

"He knows you," said the man, hand still on her shoulder as he turned them around and followed Idan back into the hall. It was as if he had read her mind.

The tank. She saw the flickering blue reflection on the walls before she saw the water itself. Two glass doors slid open, opening into a dark room with a pool in the middle. The pool was illuminated by lights beneath the surface, making it the only source of light in the room.

"If she is fully back, this will show it," said Idan.

Beth didn't say a word. The confusion was indescribable. The fear. But she wouldn't cry again; she wouldn't let things get to her again, like in the chair.

Two new people in white coats came from a door to the left, rolling out a large video camera. They positioned it, facing the lens down at the water. "Ready, doctor," said one.

The man beside Beth smiled. "Come, Beth," he said. He pulled her now, over to the pool's edge. And he yanked her forwards, throwing her into the blue water.

And it hit her like a million shards of freezing, freezing glass.


	22. Snow and Ocean

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. I realize this has all taken a massive turn, but stick with me here. Things will be explained.

She fought, she writhed, she screamed. She panicked before digging her arms into the water, pulling herself as hard as she could towards the pool's edge. Idan nodded towards the man in the coat, who then nodded to two others, who then yanked Beth out of the frigid water. Her skin felt like it wasn't there at all when she touched her arm with her shaking fingers; everything in her ached. The two people who had taken her from the pool held her up, walking her back towards the door.

"She's back. Completely," she heard Idan say. "He will be, too."

The light in Daryl's room flickered back on. His chest lifted, his pupils shrank under the sudden brightness. The door opened.

"Mr. Dixon," said the man who walked in. He wore a white coat that was nearly as white as his neatly parted hair. "Welcome back."

Daryl remained silent, watching the man and breathing heavily through his nose. His jaw was clenched.

"We have some questions for you, Daryl," said the man. "Mind if I have a seat?"

Daryl didn't reply, but the man sat on a stool by him anyways.

"So, how are you feeling as of now?" asked the man.

There was a beat of silence. "Where's Beth?" asked Daryl, his voice deep and angry.

The man nodded slowly. "Ah, yes. Beth," he said. He looked down at a clipboard in his hands, studying it. "Let's see...you've been through...two of the dimension levels together."

Daryl's head lifted. "Dimension levels?"

The man's eyes met Daryl's. He smiled. "Yes, that must be confusing for you," he said. "But I'm afraid it would be too shocking to be explained presently."

Daryl let his head fall back onto the chair. What the man was saying didn't matter; nothing did, only Beth. "Jus' lemme see her again," he pleaded, his voice quieter.

"Well, that's just the thing," said the man. "You can't see her _again_ because you've never actually seen her, Mr. Dixon."

Daryl turned towards the man. "Th'hell are you talkin' 'bout?" he asked. He fought against his constraints once more.

The man sighed. "Idan," he called, looking over his shoulder.

Idan came into the room, hardly glancing at Daryl.

"I believe it's time for debriefing," said the man, standing and offering the stool to Idan.

Idan nodded, sitting down. "Hello, Daryl," he said.

"How come you ain't tied up?" asked Daryl, still struggling.

"I'm not one of the subjects," said Idan.

Daryl paused in his struggling. "Subjects?"

Idan looked at his own hands. "Listen," he said. "When you awoke in this chair, it was the first time you had awoken in three and a half years."

Beth had been taken back to her room. The man in the white coat walked in after she was strapped back into the chair, and he shut the door.

"We have some things to discuss," he said.

"What was the pool for?" shouted Beth, struggling again against the constraints.

He lifted a hand, sitting down on a stool beside her chair. "We'll get to that," he said. "First, I'd like to ask you something: How do you feel presently? Does everything seem somehow...more real?"

Beth swallowed, hesitating. "Yes," she said. "Yes, it does." It was true. Everything in this strange place - from her vision to her emotions - was crisper than she could remember it being before.

The man nodded. "Good, good," he said. "Would you like to know why?"

"I suppose so," said Beth, calming down her struggles against the constraints.

The man paused. "This...this world that you've awoken into...this is the true reality. The true present," he said. "The other eras in your life: the turn, the research facility...those were simply fabricated dimensions."

Beth remained silent. For a brief moment, her mind was void of anything at all. She was completely blank. And then her thoughts burst into motion. Doubt was her predominant feeling. "That's not true," she said.

"I don't believe that," said Daryl, in his room. "You're gonna tell me that everything I've experienced these past few years - everyone I watched die - was all fake? All made up in my head?"

Idan paused. "The events, yes," he said. "Each dimension is like a dream state, a pseudophysical field as we call it. It _is_ in the head, yes, but can be shared by others. For example, the second dimension was shared by many; in fact, many whom you grew to know and love."

"What th'hell was the second dimension?" asked Daryl.

"The first time we put you under, inducing the first layer of your pseudophysical field, the

world you were 'sent' to, if you will, was apocalyptic. Filled with...walkers, as I believe you called them," said Idan.

"What the hell," mumbled Daryl. His breathing was picking up again.

"Mr. Dixon, please," said Idan. "There is much more yet to be explained."

Back in her room, Beth, too, was struggling with the information. She'd never truly met Daryl. How could she have never met Daryl? "The turn was the second dimension, then. What was the third?"

"Well, that varies for some of our subjects. You were shot, correct?" asked the man.

"Yes," said Beth quietly.

"You see, sometimes, a violent transition is needed to send one's mind to another, deeper level of dimensions. _Your_ third dimension was after the gunshot, when you were 'inexplicably' back with your group. And you see, only _you_ were sent to that pseudophysical field," said the man.

"But the others were there. Daryl, Maggie, Rick…they were all there, too," said Beth.

The man nodded. "You saw them there, but they weren't _really_ there. Their minds were in a completely different dimension, Miss Greene. You were alone."

Daryl still refused to believe. "So you're tellin' me...what? That when me n' Beth woke up, and everyone else had seemed to just forget about the entire damn end of the world...that was just another...pseudophysical whatever?"

Idan nodded. "For you, it was a deeper layer; your third dimension, if we call reality the first," he said.

"What about my family?" asked Beth, her eyes filling with tears. "Are they not real?"

"Oh, they're very real. Everything you remember from before the turn - that all took place in the true reality, in the first, real dimension. In this world, right here," said the man. "But you were candidates. You were selected."

Tears fell from the corner of Beth's eyes, gently streaking cold lines down her temples towards her ears. She felt all determination leave her body, leaving her limp. "I just want to go home," she said.

"Then what about you?" asked Daryl. "You were at the facility. How th'hell were you there?" Idan was explaining everything softly, but for some reason, Daryl wanted to strangle him. Punch him in the face. _You just took away three and a half years of my life, if what you're saying is true._

"I've been here all along," said Idan. "I feed information to you to help form the world you find yourself in." He smiled. "It was my idea, actually, to put the 'walkers' in your second dimension."

Daryl's head slowly shook back and forth. "Why?" he asked. "What's the point of any of this?"

"Purely research," said Idan matter-of-factly.

Daryl let his eyes close. And he knew it was true. He felt himself deflating, defeated. "I just wanna see Beth," he said quietly. "I don't care about any of this. I just wanna see Beth."

"I'm afraid that won't be happening, Mr. Dixon," said Idan. "We ended your third dimension to pull you out of all the layers you'd built up. We will now be sending you to a new pseudophysical field to test how your knowledge of the true origins of your world will affect how you act in it. You are not done yet, Daryl."

Something rose out of the hard cushion beneath Daryl's head.

Beth jumped as something latched onto her scalp. She could see wires hanging from her head out of her peripheral vision. They were reading her thoughts, recording her brain activity.

"Lie still, Miss Greene," said the man.

"Lie still, Mr. Dixon," said Idan.

 _So it really is true,_ thought Daryl.

One moment, he was in the chair. Then, in an instant, he was standing by a glass door overlooking a vista of white, snow-covered hills. He turned around; he was in a large room with a tall ceiling. The walls were made of logs and stone, and a loft looked down upon the couches and armchairs sat before the two-story fireplace. There was no sign of anyone.

"Hey," he shouted. Nothing.

He walked away from the glass door, tentatively going to explore the rest of the building. It was warm, at least. His heavy footfalls were the only sound. The tall room seemed to be the majority of the building; there was a staircase that led up to the loft, but the upstairs was small and just as void of humans as the rest of the structure.

Somehow, the loneliness felt like home. But he wanted nothing more than to see Beth, along with Rick, Maggie, Glenn - everyone - coming down those stairs to greet him. He threw himself down on one of the couches and sat in silence, staring at the streaks in the hardwood floor.

Beth found herself on a bed, looking up at cream canopy.

 _So it really is true,_ she thought.

She sat up, throwing her legs off the side of the mattress. She was in a bedroom with ornate

furniture, white beadboard, and large windows surrounding her. She stood and went to one of these; there was only ocean beyond the glass. The room appeared to be floating in a vast body of water, with no land anywhere in sight. There was no physical feeling of floating, however. The room felt entirely stable.

She knew it wasn't real.

She went to the door and tried to knob; it was locked. She went to a desk that sat in the corner and opened the drawer. Just as she wanted, a notebook and pen sat inside. She tore out a piece of paper and leaned over the desk to write.

 _Daryl, we can find each other._

A clear, little vase of delicate, purple flowers - baby's breath - sat on the nightstand. She went to it, pouring out the water and flowers onto the floor and placing the rolled-up note inside. A lid. She needed a lid of some sort. But no, if she wanted the vase to be sealed, then it would be sealed.

The windows had no way of being opened. Without questioning herself, she picked up the desk chair and promptly smashed one of the panes. She tossed the vase into the churning water below, and propped the desk chair back up among the broken glass. She sat down and watched the glass until it became nothing more than another sparkle of sunlight glistening on the waves.


	23. How the Ashes Fall

A/N: I don't own anything you recognize.

The leather of the couch was hard against the back of Daryl's head. He hadn't moved in what felt like hours.

Was there any hope to get back to Beth? Was there anything he could do? So many times he had lost her, had been so close to having her in his arms, only for her to be ripped away again. But now he had no other purpose but to find her.

At least this time he was conscious of being in a dream state. He knew this was all in his head; but was anything really different this time?

 _I gotta relax_ , he thought. _I gotta let myself be able to do something_.

He _knew_ , in the reality beyond the confines of this deep dreamworld, his head was on that hard leather chair, connected to wires in that dark room. He couldn't feel any of that, all he could feel was the couch beneath him, hear the distant, smothered sound of wind outside. But he _knew_ he wasn't really here, he was fully aware now that it was all inside of him. Surely, with that knowledge, he could wake himself up. He just needed something forceful, something that would normally jerk someone out of a deep sleep. He needed to turn this pseudophysical field into a nightmare.

He sat up, pulled up his sleeve, and pinched his arm as hard as he could. The skin pulled and stretched, clumping into a thick layer between his fingers. It turned as red as his face as he clenched his teeth. Nothing was happening. He clenched his fingers harder; he thought of Beth. God, he wanted her back...he wanted her back so badly...he stared at his fingers on the red skin, and clenched harder and harder, tears welling up in his eyes, a scream welling up, tightening in his throat, from either the pain, or from rage. His fingers pinched harder, harder, harder, and he kept staring at them through his squinting, crying eyes, until finally he released his grip and took several gasping breaths.

He threw himself back against the couch. He needed something more. Something more intense, more sudden, more forceful. More violent. He looked behind him out the window; whatever building he was in was up on a high ridge. A high ridge overlooking a deep, rocky trench. One in which someone would plummet, plummet, plummet, like a tiny pebble, until their body slammed into the jutting stones at the distant bottom. Daryl watched the glass for a moment in silence before standing and going over to it.

It was cold against his hand, and the metal handle of the door to the balcony seemed even colder. He opened it, and the silence of the large room was interrupted by the deep whirl of the snowy wind outside. He went to the railing, the snow crunching underneath his shoes, and looked down. The stones were hardly discernible jutting out from the white so far below; so, so, so far below. Everything seemed to come to a point down at the very bottom of a trench, like everything in Daryl's vision when he looked down over the railing was a steep tunnel, sucking everything down with it. But it was a tunnel that led to Beth. None of this was real; he would feel pain, and then awaken, free from it. And she would be there, and just maybe the others.

He raised one foot, ready to heave himself over, but immediately glass shattered. His heart felt like it had exploded in surprise; he twisted around behind him to see a vase sitting in the snow, surrounded by broken fragments of the window. He stared at it, bewildered, before pulling away from the railing and going towards it.

The vase was wet. He lifted it out of the snow, and tipped it upside down. A slip of paper fell out, perfectly dry. He unrolled it, and he knew. This was from Beth.

 _Daryl, we can find each other_.

He whimpered. How this was possible, he had no idea. But she was out there, in her own dream. And he was going to find her, just like she said he could.

He went in. The window had been broken from inside, as if the vase had been thrown from the room. But no one was here, and he knew no one would be. Beth had communicated across two pseudophysical fields. _Anything is possible in dreaming. Anything is possible once you know you're dreaming, especially when it is on a level this deep and this much different from just being alseep. It's different in pseudophysical fields_. If she could communicate, so would he.

He went to the fireplace, somehow instinctively. There were ashes in the bottom of it, black and piled in clumps along the stone. He took them in his hands, scooping them up and carrying them to a blank stone wall across the room. And he began to write.

He didn't understand why he was doing it, but he had a _feeling_ of assuredness, like the ones we feel in dreams when things are so strange, but we don't question them. When everything is so certainly right without any explanation. His fingers dipped into the ashes without a thought. They dragged across the stones, etching out a single word: _moonshine_.

Beth stood at the broken window, watching the sea. It was so strange how perfectly her mind could mimic the waves; had she been just thinking about the ocean, she wouldn't have been able to picture it so clearly. But in dreams, the mind pulls out details you could never before access, piecing them all together to form an image so unbelievably accurate. The sea's behaviors and movements were completely and totally real, churning and slapping into itself, foaming with white at the tips of its waves, glistening and glittering and rolling.

Was Daryl even in a pseudophysical field? Would he ever get her note? Was everything hopeless?

She turned away. The walls were completely white in this room. Everything was white, or a shade of it. It didn't seem stark or empty, though; it was peaceful. Calming. A room with an ocean view.

But she noticed something on the far wall that was _not_ white; it stood out against every piece of her surroundings: a line of black.

She furrowed her brow and walked over to it. It was growing. It curved upward, arching, arching again, before coming back down. _m._ She reached out and touched it; it looked like powder, but it was immovable, like part of the wall's paint. A new curve started: _o._ Another _o._

 _moonshine_

Her body seemed to cave inward at the stomach. She let out a whimper. He had gotten her sign, and here was his. They would find each other.

She needed to reply. She needed to tell him she was here. She knew that whatever fields they were in were connected, somehow; mentally, spiritually - somehow. She went to one of the lamps on a bedside table, and switched it on.

Daryl stood back from the ashes on the wall. How would he know that it had worked?

His question was answered immediately. The lamp beside the couch flickered on.

He ran to it. This was her. It had to be her. The light, the light was her. But just in case, he reached under the shade and switched it off.

Beth, sitting on the bed, watched the light bulb. And then, it went out. She heard it click as it was switched off. A small gasp escaped her, and she reached up to turn it on again.

Daryl smiled. Oh, that light, ever so persistent. Ever reaching him. He switched it off, then on, then off, then on, then off again.

Beth smiled and shook with excitement. The lamp began switching on and off, over and over again. She reached for the switch and held it, keeping the light on. And she felt the pressure of someone else pushing the switch the other way, against her.

Daryl had his fingers on the switch, but he felt someone pushing against him. The light was staying on. He felt a deep, deep yearning in his chest; he knew that Beth, somewhere, had her hands on the switch, too.

They kept the switch there like that for a while, both of them sitting and holding onto it, pushing gently against each other just to feel their presence.

But then Beth let go, and Daryl felt the switch push to his will, and light turned off.

He knew what he had to do. He wasn't going to live with these fleeting moments of communication with Beth; he was going to find her. And this time, he was going to hold her in his _real_ arms in the _real_ world.

He went back to the fireplace and gathered more ashes. Underneath _moonshine_ , he began to write again.

Beth sat on the mattress, thinking. The lamp wasn't enough. Not even her notes would be enough. Somehow, they needed to find each other. They _had_ to. She looked up from her lap to see the black lines etching into the wall again, underneath _moonshine_. Slowly, the black spelled out: _I have to jump, pain will make me wake up_.

Jump from where, she didn't know. But she knew what he meant. She panicked. _How_ could he possibly know that would work? What if it didn't? What if he ended up dead and never able to wake up again? She went to the wall and tried to wipe away his words, but they wouldn't go. And she knew that by now he was walking away, going to do what he thought was best. But she was screaming, crying, panicking. She couldn't get to him, she couldn't stop him. A horrible, horrible dread found its way into her heart, seeping out along her veins and dripping into all parts of her. She held her palm against his letters, his handwriting, his ashes.

Daryl wiped his hands off, although the black of the ashes was still etched into the lines on his palms. He stepped back from the wall, went to the glass door, and felt the whirling of the winter wind against his cheeks again. He went to the railing, looking behind him at the hole in the shattered window from Beth's vase. He climbed over, still holding on, his feet on the very edge of the balcony. He took one more look behind him; the lamp had turned on. The light was still glowing for him.

And he felt the metal railing escape his hands, and he fell forward.


	24. Domum

A/N: I don't own anything you recognize.

Daryl's eyes jerked open. Reality enveloped him again, and he focused his vision on the bulb dangling placidly above him. He was alone in the room, and still strapped down. But the electrodes dotting his skull were still in place, and along their stringy wires glided signals of his neural activity, sent off to whoever was monitoring him, watching him, and would ultimately see his opened eyes in the form of changed brain waves.

Apparently the signals had gone through, for in less than ten minutes the door was thrown open and the man from before strode in.

"Awake, are we, Mr. Dixon?" he said.

Daryl said nothing in reply.

Anger flashed in the man's gaze. "You shouldn't have jumped, Mr. Dixon."

"Why not?" growled Daryl.

"We weren't done observing you," said the man.

Daryl jerked his body. "That's all I'm ever gonna do. Every time you try to trap me in your...your worlds, I'll just keep jumpin'. Keep dyin'. You can't keep me in there. I've figured it out."

"And what will you awaken to, Mr. Dixon? Every time, it will just be you and this chair, and we'll send you under again. But you don't think _that's_ the trap?" said the man.

Daryl kept still, staring up at the man, eyes full of anger. Man, where the hell was he? He wasn't going to put up with this. He had to do something.

The man was beginning to turn away, but Daryl began groaning in pain. He jerked his neck, grimacing. The man turned back to him.

"What?" he asked, his face contorted in purely scientific concern.

"Somethin'...somethin' is wrong with my neck," said Daryl.

"Nothing has touched your neck," said the man. He reached his eyes over Daryl to examine.

Daryl lurched his neck again, bringing his teeth clamping down on the man's wrist. The man yelled out in pain, trying to jerk his hand away. Daryl's teeth held on, clamping down harder and harder until liquid seeped onto his tongue, filling the spaces by his gums. The man yanked his arm away at last, sending blood flying as Daryl's teeth ripped from the skin. But Daryl's fingers had grasped the man's coat as he had been leaning over, and Daryl pulled again, yanking the man against the chair. Glass crashed from trays beside him; the man was fighting.

"Let me out of this chair," grunted Daryl.

The man fell across him, and Daryl grabbed with his other hand. His nails found the open wound where he had bitten; he dug. The man screamed.

The man's hands finally went to Daryl's ties; he whimpered and shook, blood all over his white coat. He was, after all, an old man.

Daryl sat up, released. The man collapsed against the wall, gripping his wrist. He was becoming paler and paler.

"They'll have heard me screaming," said the man weakly. "And if they didn't, they'll wonder why I'm taking so long. I am not the only man in this facility. This is futile, Mr. Dixon."

Daryl released his ankles from their straps. "No, it ain't," he said. He went to the door and locked it. He looked down at the old man with the bloodied arm, growing paler by the second. "I wouldn't have done this to you if you hadn't done this to me."

The sea was growing choppy out of Beth's window. Dead, he surely was dead. She felt herself going downwards, towards the floor. Her legs curled up to her chest as she sat. She was truly alone now, in this bedroom on the ocean. Nowhere to go, no one to help her. The loneliness, the desperation, the panic began to wash over her. Trapped, she was trapped. How long would she sit in this room? How long would she stare up at those ashes on the wall, left to rot away with only thoughts of her past life, her past family. The group. Oh, but was the group even real? Was anything real? Daryl, she'd never met him. Not truly. Just in communal dream worlds.

No. She wasn't going to sit here forever. She wasn't. She stood up, striding over to the broken window, wiping tears from her cheeks. She picked the desk chair up again, smashing the window further, making a wider and wider opening. She took a deep breath and jumped through, crashing down into cold, cold water.

Up, down, up, down. She bobbed and struggled in the water as it hit her in the face over and over again. The choppy waves carried her relentlessly, making her gasp for air as she helplessly fought against their force. She went under, then she rose. Under, then rose. Under, under, under, then rose. Her chest was tight, her body tired and cold. She twisted in the water as best she could, and through the waves slapping her face and pulling her head downwards, she saw no house. No broken window. She twisted around and around, pushing her body up with nothing to use to give her balance or leverage. There was nothing but choppy, brutal ocean surrounding her. Nothing at all.

She was tiring so quickly. The waves pulled her up, down, side to side. She struggled for control, for air. The sky was grey, and yet still so bright. Her arms ached with the soreness of pushing against the heavy force of the water. Her lungs were exhausted.

Her vision faded as her strength did likewise. The waves were getting higher, stronger. She stopped fighting, letting them carry her. But she could not float. The water engulfed her over and over again, until she was pulled down farther, farther, and everything was muffled. The loud gusts of wind and water against her ears were hushed as she was pulled down into a peaceful world underneath. The blue became black, and the muffled sounds turned to a ring. Then the ring stopped. It all stopped.

Her eyes flew open. She heard yelling from outside - outside the door. The door to the room with the chair in it, in which she was strapped down.

Water.

"Daryl," she whispered, her lungs stronger than she anticipated. Her hair was dry against the back of her neck.

The yelling stopped, and her door handle was jangled. The door was busted open. She could hardly lift her head high enough off the chair to see who stood in the light from the doorway. She blinked. The figure stepped closer.

"Beth," said his gruff voice.

She was lifted from the ocean, from the relentless, suffocating water. "Daryl," she said, the word falling from her mouth like she'd been waiting to say it for years.

With the mention of his name, he collapsed over her, his stumbling feet throwing him over to her. His fingers shakily and hastily undid her straps, and with the release of her limbs, she wrapped her body around him.

He pulled her into his arms, tighter than he'd ever held onto anything.

This was the first time their real bodies had touched. The first time their real voices had

graced each other's ears. The first time they had really met.

His hand gripped the back of her head, his fingers deep in her blond hair. He shook as they both cried into each other. Beth sighed with emotion and buried her head into his chest. She lifted her face up to his neck, and placed her lips against his rough skin.

He faltered for a moment before turning his face down to her. He held the back of her little head in one hand, the other wrapped around her torso, holding on tightly to lift her back off the chair. And his breath was shaky, and her lips were wet from her own tears. And he reached his face down to hers, kissing her deeply and soundly, with all the love he had held in his heart since the beginning.

They were walking through a field together after the prison. They were staring at each other over moonshine. They were holding hands in a graveyard. He was watching her play piano in the quiet peace of the evening. They were watching each other in the golden amber light at the dining table when he felt the deepest love and attachment he'd ever felt swell in his chest, even then. And yet here in this room was the only moment they'd shared that had ever been real.

Their lips parted just barely, and he smiled as he leaned his forehead against hers. No, he thought. It had all been real, dreamt or not.

The men came back, stepping over their fallen comrades in the hall. Beth and Daryl were ready for them. It was as if in slow motion they took each one down, using shards of glass and their fists; nothing mattered now that they had each other. They moved down the hall as the facility grew quieter and quieter. No more men came. They had either fled, gone for help, or all been eliminated. Beth and Daryl wandered together.

Name tags. Each door was labeled.

"Do you think the others are here?" asked Beth.

Daryl stopped. "Yes," he said. He was staring at a nametag on the wall.

 _Rick Grimes_

Beth's breath seemed to stop. "We can get them out," she said. She jangled the door handle to Rick's room. "We can."

Daryl took the door handle before throwing his shoulder against the door. It burst open. Rick lay in a copy of their rooms, strapped to a chair, eyes closed.

"Idan, he could influence what we saw and experienced when we were under," said Beth. "We can do the same for Rick." She looked down at the man as they stepped closer. Tears filled her eyes. He looked like home.

"We'll try it," said Daryl. "Then we'll look for everyone else."

Beth sat down on the stool beside Rick's chair, taking his hand in hers. "Rick," she said. "It's Beth." She stroked his hand with her thumb.

"And Daryl's here, too," said Daryl.

"If you can hear me, you need to know something: wherever you are, it isn't real...just know that. It isn't real, Rick," said Beth. "Please, if you can hear me: It isn't real. You need to come to reality." Her grip tightened on his hand.

"Rick, hey, you've gotta listen to us. You're dreamin'. It's all a dream. The others you're with, they're dreamin' too. You're all in one big dream, or somethin', okay? You gotta get outta there," said Daryl.

"You have to end it...with some sort of violent upheaval. You have to rip yourself from the dream," said Beth. "Rick, if you can hear me: You have to rip yourself from the dream."

"C'mon, Rick," mumbled Daryl. "Hear us."

Rick's eyes fluttered.

"Is he wakin' up?" asked Daryl loudly, stepping closer to the chair.

Beth leaned forward. "No," she concluded. "His eyes are just moving. He's dreaming."

Daryl's shoulders fell. "I'm gonna check the other nametags, find the others," he said. He left the room, walking out into the darkened hall.

Everything was so quiet. The entire facility seemed to be asleep. The hum of the dim lights filled the space in the hall.

 _Glenn Rhee_

 _Maggie Greene_

 _Hershel Greene_

"Beth!" he yelled. He turned back towards Rick's room, practically running. "They're all here," he said. "They've all been under this whole time. They're all dreamin'. We were all always dreamin'." He paused. "Maggie, your dad, Glenn. The others, too, I'm guessin'. They're in this hall."

Beth was watching him with wide eyes. "Can you keep talkin' to Rick? I've gotta see them," she said hurriedly.

He took her place by Rick's side.

The hall was silent. They hadn't _really_ killed that many men; where did they all go? It was as if everyone had fled, evacuated.

Evacuated.

There was a noise. Something in the silence. She turned to the wall and saw her sister's name written out, but she turned back and ran to Rick's room. She stood in the doorway and saw a flash of Daryl's face as he turned to her. And that was it.

A split second of sudden heat and flame burst through the hall. She felt nothing. It was all gone in a blink.

The men had evacuated and blown the place up.

Birds. Their songs were muffled outside of the window in the early sunlight. Blurred white sheets covered half of Beth's vision as she blinked. She sat up, her blond hair falling over her shoulder. She was alone in the room, but voices echoed from somewhere below.

She stood, going to the door of this bedroom. It was a beautiful house, quiet and lit by the pale sunlight. In the hall she went to a staircase that carried her to an open room. And in this room was everyone: the group, the family. They mingled with each other, hugging and laughing and embracing, like they were all meeting again.

Rick turned to her at the front of the group. He smiled when he saw her. "Mornin'," he said. He took her into his arms.

"Rick," she whispered, holding onto him. She let go and looked beside him.

"Glenn!" she said, laughing with joy. He wrapped his arms around her.

"Hey!" he said as he hugged her.

Maggie emerged from behind Glenn as they parted. "Beth," she said, tears and laughter mixing on her face. Beth's forehead showed no wound. She was here, real.

The sisters grabbed each other, wrapping themselves around each other.

"Daddy's here," said Maggie as she pulled away, holding Beth's face in her hands.

Hershel came up from the mingling crowd, and he blubbered, taking Beth in his arms. Beth let out a sob, wrapping her arms around his waist. He opened his other arm to take Maggie in.

They were all together again, all meeting one another in tears and hugs. Years of struggling and surviving, of fighting and dying, were in the past; they were done. It was finished. Now they could all rest, together at last in peace.

Beth's cheeks were sticky with tears and aching from her incessant smile. She turned. There he was. Daryl.

He came down the stairs and immediately fell into Rick. The men hugged and cried, knowing how long it had been. Knowing what they'd been through. Daryl pulled away and looked at everyone in the room. He glanced at Rick, and they smiled; Rick nodded.

Others came to Daryl to hug him, all of them in tears. Carol came to him in the widest smile she'd ever worn, and they embraced. Maggie wrapped her arms around his neck. He was smiling more than he'd ever smiled, too.

And then his eyes fell on Beth. She moved through the crowd to him, her nostrils flared and her eyes tearing up anew. She stood in front of him. "We made it," she said.

He smiled down at her, and took her in his arms. He buried his face in her hair, and she wrapped herself around his neck. He turned his face to hers, and kissed her. So many years they'd struggled. They had made it.

The double doors leading to the room opened. A bright light filled the open space, beckoning them. Daryl looked down at Beth and smiled; she smiled up at him.

Rick stood at the front of the group. Glenn wrapped his arm around Maggie. Daryl and Beth were hand in hand. Together, with Rick leading everyone, they strolled into the light. And the doors closed.

The End


End file.
